To Be Stabbed In The Front
by forevergold
Summary: A friend should be a master at guessing and keeping still." - Friedrich Nietzsche. It's all a facade: a girl searching,a stranger who doesn't know what she wants and a boy who is just trying to get out. In Forks, none of this seems possible. AH.
1. Prologue

Heh. This looks way better if you click that little 1/2 up top. Sorry. It just does.

* * *

No matter what you hear about high school--what people tell you, what you see in movies--is all bull.

Because I know for a fact nobody had ever warned me about this. And I was most definitely in high school.

I stared into cold, harsh blue eyes. They weren't empty. Even in my dread I could rejoice. I knew what she wanted. Knew that in this moment, she was in control.

And I just let myself become trapped in her superior gaze, giving her permission. Because she needed it. To be free. I took comfort in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, if I hadn't given her permission, she would've taken it anyways. Without asking.

For herself.

For me.

That's the mark I wanted to leave on her. Friendship can brand you for life. It can even set you free, if you let it. But you have to take it.

Without asking.

Because this world is full of people who must follow directions and obey all rules. But, is that truly living, when in the end, that's what kills you?

* * *

**A/N This is a little ditty that popped into my head one day. Actually no, its the effect of too much high school drama that nobody cares about. Thought it would be interesting to write about with Twilight characters. Excuse the shortness. I'm new to writing fan fiction so bear with me and tell me if you want to keep reading. **


	2. Hellschool

_This blows. _

You'd think time was moving slow on purpose. Fate is a cruelly deceptive cycle. Life is another one of its predictable routines. Humans might as well be puppets. Controlled by a societal puppeteer. The sad part is we might never see the strings attached to our backs.

I swear I could hear the clock ticking as I watched the hands creep and crawl, hearing the seconds as if my life was a big count down no one wanted to show for.

It was a Friday. It was sixth period. It had been one hell of a day. Need I say more?

The monotony of my life was almost ironic. It taught me to be comfortable with an inevitably slow death, hypnotized by its repetitive, superficial gleam. Same droning teacher. Same friends talking about the same things. Same couple practically sitting in one chair. Or not. I backtracked.

_Trouble in paradise, eh? _

Angela caught my wandering eye. I tried to smile and pretend that I hadn't been caught staring again. It was kind of hard not to. Even if they weren't practically making out during class like always.

We're actually going to use two chairs today, are we? Looks like he was actually going to pay attention to the teacher. While she tried counting holes in the ceiling.

Huh. No show today, I guess.

Must have microwaved the popcorn a little prematurely. Whoops.

Angela whacked the arm that had unconsciously made its way onto her desk as I leaned in to watch the unfolding drama. What used to be a cheesy romance had now developed into a juicy soap opera. I attempted to look abashed at my obvious interest. And failed.

It beat taking notes on the teacher's lecture, not even gonna lie.

The cliché of my school hierarchy was slightly pathetic. Rich kids thought they owned. And they were only given the power to do so because every average Joe and Jane could only look on, watching their glorious designer-clad asses sashay across the parking lot each morning, wishing they could just get _in_.

Eff that. It was enough of a chore to get up every freaking morning than to be worrying about not being _cool _enough. Who ever cared about that after graduation anyways? It was just off to college and on with our lives. Didn't people get it?

At the very top of this food chain, was the golden couple. The crème-de-la-crème. The cream of the crop and all that jazz. The always perfect, hopelessly in love-sick, too-stunning-to look-at couple. Edward and Rosalie. Rosalie and Edward.

Edward was just way too dang hot for his own good. And he knew it. He spent money like I read books. Or whatever. He could pull off a trash bag. When he smiled, you could hear girls fainting. Captain of the soccer team, AP student, and cockiness to boot, he was just. God.

And Rosalie was just a gorgeous birch. If you weren't her friend, why would you even bother talking to her? It was as simple as that. You didn't get in her way. She was untouchable. Too gosh darn perfect to associate with average. Somehow always managing to dress as expensively as her daddy's paycheck. But dumb. Well, at least, I'd like to think so, considering the C test that accidentally ended up on my desk. And that laugh. God. How could you have a brain and still have a snort like that? It was entirely impossible. I was sure of it.

I hated her without even needing to experience her snobiness up close and personal. I mean, she was dating Edward Cullen. Can't think of a better reason to hate her. That pretty much did it for me.

Somehow she had gotten into this class. With me. And Edward. Joy.

It was a hard class on top of listening to their constant cooing.

She couldn't be that funny, could she? He laughed an awful lot. But then again, so did she. Kill me.

Their cuddling seemed to be entirely ignored by everyone except for me. Because I wanted on that. And her off. Just sayin'.

I wasn't jealous. Not really. Just…

He could do better. Really.

The bell tolled like a reminder of a future too far away to look forward to. Over the flurry of backpack zippers and chairs scraping across the floor, I saw Edward shoulder his backpack hastily and turn, shoving his way past the other students bee-lining it for the door to freedom. Or the parking lot. Hmm. I immediately turned to see if I could catch a glimpse of what had just transpired on Rosalie's face. But she wasn't looking at the empty doorway Edward had just run through.

No.

She was looking at me. Like the world had just suddenly come crashing down around her. Like all that crap people spew about true love and soul mates was just proven completely untrue, with facts and evidence to back it up. Like life was just too painful to bear.

I panicked. For in that moment, she looked real. Like a human being. I hurt for her. So, I turned and left the classroom. Leaving behind a girl holding a broken heart in her hands, trying desperately to put it back together.

I wanted not to care. I wanted to move on with my life and dismiss the whole thing as being all in my head. I did.

But when I tried to forget, when I tried to hate her, all I could do was remember. Her haunted eyes, tired and hurt.

I've always believed it was the flaws that made you. The person you became was founded upon where you came from. Being perfect just defined you as another robot, trying to outsmart the world in thinking that this was even realistic, all this business about never having issues or making mistakes. You just can't live like that. Being scarred and having problems meant that you were real. And I believed in real people, in baring the soul. I was attracted to the wounds life left behind on people.

And in that moment, I believed in her.

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**Okay, if y'all are still interested, thanks for simply being interested. I'd also like to say that I will be most definitely messing around with these characters. I have a story in my head that requires these characters to be anti-canon or whatever so you jes hafta keep an open mind…**

**Thanks for putting up with my rant. Please lemme know if you dig this or not. New writers need encouragement. Badly. Helps fight the writers block. **


	3. Lunch

"…so, then I said, 'You are such an asshole!' and then I was like 'Wait, do you really think I'm fat?' and when I turn around he's laughing at me. Like, doubled over."

I rolled my eyes. Alice was probably the skinniest human being I'd ever seen. The only reason why I had yet to call someone professional was the fact that she was always hungry. And really, always eating.

"Uh-huh. So. When are you finally gonna realize that he, hmm…well. How do I put this? WANTS. ON. YOU." I say, already knowing how she's going to reply. Life is tortuous that way.

"Bella, we've been over this, he thinks I'm like, his best friend, or something. He says he feels like he can tell me anything…I mean, he was totally just kidding about me being fat…"

She's currently stuffing her mouth full of potato chips daintily, which I'm not entirely sure is possible. And I move my train of thought onto something else before I start killing brain cells with the logic of her eating habits and her femininity.

Alice doesn't understand that despite popular belief, not everyone wants to hear about her recent adventures with Wonder Boy Jasper Whitlock, the retard with an abusive girlfriend and a major case of lust for his new best friend, Alice Brandon. She's my friend too, but only when she really wants to put in the effort. Oh, and also when I pretend to care about her pining desire for the dude-who-so-wants-in-her-pants-but-instead-pulls-the-friendship-trust-crap.

She'll settle for anything he'll give her.

I let the cafeteria noises drown out anything else she has to add. I'm normally pretty empathetic towards her drama, I don't enjoy being rude. But I've had a lot on my mind lately.

I glance at their table. I watch Angela gush in response to Alice's retelling in the corner of my eye. And let my focus be drawn completely to the table in the center.

Like the freaking center stage or something. Emmett and Jasper arm-wrestling, while Jasper attempts to flick potato salad in his eyes. I watch Edward laugh at them, his shoulders shaking and his eyes crinkling. He's sharing a headphone with Rosalie, his hair wild and perfect, his long fingers drumming on the table top. Rosalie, blond hair piled into a ponytail, draws circles with her fingers, staring at nothing. I notice her nail polish is black.

The rest of their posse looks on, knowing that though they may be a part of the top, they are not what makes the top.

Edward's laughter fills the cafeteria. I continue to watch, ignoring the tingle in my stomach at the sound.

Rosalie fidgets with the bottom of her shirt. Traces the lining on the side of her jeans. Reaches for her bag. Starts rummaging through it without seeming to know what she's even looking for. The headphone slips out, but she doesn't bother to put it back in.

They are all beautiful. But she does not glow.

Edward never even glances at her.

I'm scared for her. She looks…lost.

"Hey guys…" I'm hesitant to share this with the committee.

Nobody stops talking. Angela looks at me mid-sentence. I roll my eyes. Again.

"Anyone got a smoke?" I say, a little bit louder this time.

The silence is so abrupt that I have to remember what I wanted to say in the first place.

Heh. "Just kidding. Jesus. It's like I just announced that it was the end of the freaking world. Calm down."

They continued to stare at me. Oh my. I didn't realize what couple of idiots my friends were.

"What's up with Edward and Rosalie?" I nonchalantly ask while taking a huge bite of my apple.

Alice groans. "Bella, we know you've been obsessed with Edward since you had eyes, but seriously, it's time to move on. He's with Rosalie. The end. They have, they will and they do live happily ever after. God. It's like, ordained by the gods, or something. Can we get back to what I was saying?"

I have to snicker at the irony. There was no break-up riding on her horizon either. That hypocritical swine.

Angela attempted to help. After all, they weren't all idiots. "I don't know, remember that one time they came into class late? Her mascara was running down her cheeks and Edward couldn't even look at anybody."

"Yeah, I remember." I did. It had been a couple weeks ago. Alice and I had joked about what she had been crying about.

"_Oh Edward why can't you just be happy that I wear strawberry flavored lip-gloss? It's like the best in the world. I know that you're allergic but you'll just have to get over it. Even when I get it all over your face."_

"_Rosalie, if you want me to be happy in this relationship, you're gonna have to quit wearing it. You don't want me to be unhappy, do you Rosie?"_

"_But, but, Edward. It makes my lips all big and pouty. Don't you like that?"_

"_Uh, yeah. Hey, you're right. It does work pretty good. But, uh. That's not the point."_

And on and on. You get the idea. Yeah, well, har har. We laughed at the time. But I wasn't laughing anymore.

Angela continued, "And remember when Emmett tried to ask about it, Edward almost punched him in the face? Emmett. Who picks a fight with that guy?"

"Yeah." I answered. To all of the above. The couple wasn't just a rich and stupid pair of picture-perfect Barbies that everyone made fun of but secretly wanted to be.

They were…intriguing. To say the least. There was more going on here. I just knew it.

And suddenly, high school got interesting.


	4. Jasper

Today made me question the importance of Civics. It was pretty much the bane of my existence.

The only reason why I was still awake, what with a substitute and 'individual work' and all, was Alice.

Stupid, friggin' Alice.

She wanted me to keep tabs on Peter Pan and his stupid idiot Wendy. Er, well, Jasper and Lauren. Who happened to sit, oh well, right in front of me.

Eff my life.

Lauren, frizzy white blond hair and tattoo and piercing, thought she was freaking Marilyn Monroe or something. But sexy and smooth she was not. Everyone knew she was as fake as her boobs. And that she was just using Jasper as a bump up the ladder. She was one step closer to the top. And maybe it was about the sex.

I glanced at his clenched and protruding shoulder blades.

Hell. Why wouldn't it be about sex?

And it was also about his parties. Well, his friends' parties.

Why? 'Cuz they were legit. Rumor had it. Exclusive, too. We all wanted what we couldn't have, right?

Whatever.

So, Jasper got the tits and Lauren got the five minutes. But she was still a bitch. And it pissed me off because Jasper was a cool cat. Not that I knew him. He was just more down-to-earth than the rest of 'em. Not as, get-away-you-have-middle-class-cooties. How could he, what with his torn straight legs and his Ramones t-shirt? The brown curls hanging over his eyes just screamed nonconformity. He made it look tough. Your regular greaser.

I watched her grab the back of his neck, her neon pick fingers curling into his hair, pulling him into her. I could hear her whining voice complain about how bored she was. _Let's go to the bathroom, Jazz…_

Ick. Well, here's to you Alice.

"Hey Jasper, what do you think of country music?" I ask, drawing cubes on my workbook. I honestly can't remember the last time we ever had a conversation. I could've sworn we talked once. Or maybe that was when I accidentally bumped into him in the halls. Oh yes, because after I apologized profusely for it, he had tipped his imaginary cowboy hat. I promptly swooned in the middle of a hall full of rushing students. I never forgot that. Huh. Well, here's my contribution to the greater good of society.

I can check doing a good deed for a stranger off my list of things to do.

Not that I'm complaining. If all strangers looked that dashing in a pair of grungy chucks, the world would be a less violent place. I can assure you.

I can feel Lauren burning a bullseye on my forehead. I hear Jasper snort. It is an awful question.

"I, uh, well…that Taylor Swift sure is something, huh?" I continue, looking up to see if he's gettin' it.

He is. Jasper is probably the only one in his crowd with enough brains to laugh at my humor.

I'm caught off guard by the confidence in his shining hazel eyes. The clarity in his gaze. He winks, his stubbly cheek turning up and his tongue clicking against his teeth. He leans into me, bracing his arm onto my desk.

Cigarettes and fabric sheets. Mmm.

I watch his lips move. "Yes, I do enjoy a little Swift here and there." And twitch. Ah, Pixie Boots.

In his signature move, he flicks his head, shaking his too-long brown hair out of his eyes. I resist the urge to start hyperventilating. Honestly.

I move in closer to say something. His eyelashes are thick and dark.

Lauren's hand snakes in to push Jasper's chest back. He looks annoyed. She looks up at him, disbelief apparent in her face, her eyes confused, "You're joking, right?"

God. Sometimes I ask myself why.

I watch Jasper and mouth _she's hot, _nodding dramatically over Lauren's frizzhead.

"Yeah." He answers to both of us, but only looking at me. His eyes are smiling.

And I realize something. Jasper looks good in flannel. Real 'effin good. Damn.

And that he could be my friend. I wink back at him.

Maybe Alice does have good taste. Or a valid reason to fight.

Suddenly Lauren's pulling him up and after her out the door. Probably to the bathroom.

I keep my head down as they pass by. Sink back into the scenery. Just a picture on display.

But no.

I feel a hand tussle my hair and I catch a glimpse of ripped vans before the moment is completely gone.

And I smile.

Who says I'm not cool?


	5. Reflections

**Okay, so I'm a major noob and I completely forgot to add my disclaimer. Sorry. **

**As much as I want to own Edward, he is, alas, not mine. Same goes for all the other characters. They all belong to SM. I just take them out to play with. Heh. Carry on. **

I breathe in the deep, musty smell of good ole' rain. I breathe in the smell of new and fresh and nature and beauty. I'm hesitant to release my breath in fear of losing this peaceful aroma.

I watch the rain splash and drip-drop onto the windshield of my beat-up, faded, amazing truck. Listening to the sounds of raindrops matching up to the beating of my heart. Breathing in and out. Inhaling. I find comfort in rain, in witnessing a cleansing of the earth, so to speak.

I was ten minutes early. The school parking lot was quickly starting to come alive. And the rain was coming down pretty hard.

I sat, mesmerized by the drumming of my fingers on the steering wheel. Tapping out a tune drowned out by the fuzz of radio static. The song strained to come through the bits of lost signal and machine and a strange whirring sound. I didn't bother to turn it down. It was weirdly comforting to know that some things were never meant to be perfectly heard. Some things could only reach so far.

It could be perfect and philosophical and smooth. And then…static.

Life was lovely in it all its flawed glory.

I stared at my chipped nails, stubby and crooked and indicative of being chewed constantly. I had tried to convince Alice of why it was pointless to paint my nails. They never stayed perfectly colored for long. She didn't care. They still were coated in some _Who-the-Hell-Cares Blue. _Alice got a kick out of looking underneath each nail polish vial to see what they were named. I didn't. Sorry, I just found _Tinkle Me Pink _to be wickedly funny. Alice never understood my humor.

Angela's car was pulling into a spot and I quickly contemplated the pros and cons of leaving my warm car to go say hi. My little bubble of security. Well, it wasn't as if the seconds would slow down if I stayed in my comfort zone. The bell was going to ring either way. It was a fact that haunted me every goddamn morning.

I got out of the car. Ambled my way over to where her car was parked, looking at the ground to watch where my feet were and where the puddles had situated themselves.

As I walked, I caught a glimpse of myself reflected off one of the puddles. I saw the rain clouds behind me, the gray of the sky bouncing up to meet my gaze. And I stopped.

Because it was beautiful.

I was struck by the way I fit into the reflection. Into the two opposite ends in the spectrum of nature. On the ground was a snapshot of me, in the sky. Somehow a part of the beauty. The black pavement underneath the shining water just barely outlining the length of my hair and the shape of my dark brown eyes. I stepped closer, scrutinizing my reflection.

I looked like a stranger who had nowhere to belong.

I looked like the very definition of average. If you looked it up in the dictionary, you'd find **Bella Swan **as the example cited.

I briefly wondered what life was like for average people. How it differed from the life of a more-than-average person.

And suddenly, so suddenly I stopped breathing, the world came back into motion.

"--OF THE WAY!" someone screamed. Too loudly. And too late.

I looked up to see the front of a car speeding towards me. All I could do was look at it blankly, somehow puzzled by this situation. My mind dully registered the fact that I was going to die.

I found the whole situation ridiculously funny. But I had the decency not to laugh.

After all, I was gonna die. It wouldn't be polite.

And then I feel this painful yank on my arm before I realize I'm being pulled out of the way. I slam into something. Hard.

I lean against the mass of warmth and strength, remembering that I still have yet to take a breath.

It's dark and my head is ringing.

Someone is shushing me. Softly. "Hey. It's okay, you're not dead." Velvet. A voice is calling to me. Crooning and hushed and wonderful. A lifeline.

I take in three things at once. And the rapid rate at which I process them all makes me dizzy.

I'm hyperventilating. That's what that sound is. My lungs don't seem to understand that I'm alive.

My eyes are closed. I'm actually dying to know who is talking to me. I laugh softly as I realize the irony of my thoughts. But it comes out sounding like psychotic warbling.

Why does the voice sounds so close?

It's the third thing that forces my eyelids to open. I'm leaning on a body. Clutching, really. A lean, firm, muscular body. A body who logically belongs to the voice I'm hearing. Or vice versa.

Eh. My head hurts.

I slowly take in the pale, small fists bunching up a red sweatshirt. My fists. I apprehensively take in the soccer warm-ups down below.

Oh.

Dear.

God.

I look up and sputter. I'm hoping he'll attribute it to my obvious failure at knowing how to breathe properly.

It's him.

Of course, it had to be him who pulled me out of the way. Turns out there's a shortage of hot, hunky heroes around here.

I couldn't let myself hope that he did it because he was the only one who cared if I lived or died. Because, hell. It was so far from the truth that it wasn't even worth dreaming of.

The only thing wrong here is that I'm no damsel in distress. Far from it.

And this fact kills me. Because this picture is off-balance. Crooked. Him. Me.

I focus back on his face.

His green eyes are wide and slanting and knowing all at the same time. They're shadowy and brooding and heated. There's a furrow between his eyebrows and his lips are quirked up into a half smirk. Somewhere, it hits me that he's probably trying hard not to laugh at my dramatics. That he finds this somewhat amusing. Well. He's not the only one. I'm just too busy fighting the urge to drool.

His lips are dark and red, icy and soft in the paleness of his face.

His square jaw is rigid and stone, even with one cheek pulled up, his head cocked to the side.

And cold. He looks so cold.

He's confusion and hope and sex and unknown and wishes and crimson and boy.

He smells like smoke and peppermint and dirt and wet and reading by the fire when it's pouring out.

He's home.

His hair is drooping and everywhere, glued to his forehead and hanging down by his ears. It's no longer copper red, but dark, almost brown. And his eyes are staring at me, empty and deep, just staring at me. Asking, seeing, understanding. Seeking, drilling, imploring.

There's so much to uncover behind those eyes. So many secrets. Hopes.

I'm desperate to know them all. I'm desperate to share them. I'm desperate to be one of them.

His lips are moving. I think he's asking me something. I can't seem to hear anything at this point. Just the steady pounding of rain.

And then the bell shakes me out of my reverie. Quite literally. I can now fully comprehend the term jumping out of one's skin.

Edward's hands hold me down. Soothing and burning. They're on my hips.

His. Hands. Are. On. My. Hips.

I can feel every single one of his fingertips and suddenly. I want it all. I want everything. I want him and his smell and his stare and his touch and his whole being. I have this urge to just be with him. Around him. Whatever.

Breaking everything, he asks, "Are you gonna be okay?" He's nervous for some reason. I can hear my dreams of him crashing down around my ears. I'm devastated he has so obviously missed the connection I felt. He glances around, wondering when he can go to class and checking to see if anyone is still watching our little encounter. So he can finally ditch the psycho and get on with his glamorous life. He looks scared. Why would he….

Oh right. He's still waiting for me to say something. Too bad he's so freaking great at rendering me speechless.

"I…uh…well. Was that the bell?" I finally manage to get out. Well, I tried to acting normal. There goes that.

"Yeah." He kind of laughs, half tense and half relieved. I can hear his thoughts. _She's not completely dim-witted and she seems to have regained her hearing. Thank God. But she's still staring creepily at me._

His eyes lose some of their edge. It's hard for me to speak again because I'm trying too hard not to fall in love with that laugh. When I know it could be so much more. The laughter, I mean.

But it's really hard.

"So…well." I say, "Thank you for uh, you know, pretty much saving me from my ultimate doom…" I'm coherent enough to observe my own stupidity, but I'm too lost in his gaze to even have the capacity to care.

He chuckles, then seems surprised by the action, looking at me to see if I was actually trying to be funny.

I smile encouragingly. I look down at my hands, stilled balled into tight fists. There's all this time and space and meaning between us, that I can't even think of what words to say, but. It's there. This sheer need to just…tell him something. To do something. To just…

"You know…" I start to say and then make the mistake of meeting his eyes again. And he's just gazing. At me.

I forgot my name. Where I was. How to breathe. How to speak English.

And he's looking up from underneath his wet eyelashes, squinting at me, all intense and questioning. Like he's searching for an answer in my eyes. For the answers he's been trying to find his whole life.

It's…well. Really effin' scary.

I've never seen someone so open. So vulnerable. Except.

My thoughts shoot briefly to Rosalie. And I shut that door before it could open an inch. Who cares?

I blink.

And then it's gone. His shoulders pull up in a halfhearted shrug, his eyes going blank and his stupid hands dislodging my own. "Glad you're fine then. All in a day's work, huh?" he sort of mutters through the side of his mouth. Already looking around, moving on to the next part of his day. Of his life.

There's a flash of his too-white, too-straight teeth and then he's gone.

Leaving me breathless and dizzy all over again.

Why couldn't that stupid friggin' car just run me over?

I watch the water dripping down the tip of his hood as he lopes toward class and wonder if this is what it feels like to watch destiny turn its back on you without ever asking for your name.

"I'm Bella." I say to nobody in particular. To the rain.

I watch the ripples in a nearby puddle form with each drop of rain. One second a perfect reflection, flawless and clear. The next, broken, a picture shattered and in pieces.

I step into as many puddles as I can on my way to class.

**AN: Okay, if you're all still with me. REVIEW. RIGHT NOW. Just click that button and say hey. I need something to go on. Please. If you hate it, tell me. If you love it, tell me. Just, well. Say something. I'm not crazy I swear. **


	6. Snapshots

**Disclaimer: I own an Audrey Hepburn poster, a mag picture of Rob (well, more than one really), and green nail polish. Not these characters. I just get to play dress-up. **

* * *

I believe that there is no such thing as _the one. _There _is _no such thing as the one_. _

I was seventeen-years-old, a lonely and bitter and cynical senior in high school all set to conquer the fucking world, and I was sure of it.

You know, _the one. _The one that's supposed to destroy life as you know it and put it back together in such a way that it pretty much revolved around them, he/she. This _one being. _

I mean, wasn't it just a matter of perspective? Wasn't there potential in the someone, any someone, you wanted to invest your life in?

Wasn't it just a matter of chance? A slight of hand, a slip in fate, a random occurrence in a way-too-big universe? And really, how could your whole world, be embodied in one person?

How could one person just. Hold all the answers?

Be everything?

I watched the sun glint off the roof of Alice's shiny Mercedes. God. I don't even know why she still hung out with us, it was only a matter of time 'til she got an invitation to a better set of friends, or rather, better people to hang out with. Well, actually just better ways to pass time. With prettier, richer people. Those asshole moneybags that ruled the school never got caught for any of the shit everyone in this tiny little town knew they pulled. I should know, me being the police chief's daughter and all. It could be entertaining (hell, some dipshit peeing in the street would be effin' entertaining in this godforsaken town) but the only part that people (me) truly savored was the fact that they continuously managed to get away with their little bouts of debauchery. It was like the happy ending you knew you could always count on. Superman can't die because that would ruin a happy ending. You know this. And in a way you feel ruined and cheated because you know there _will _be an optimistic conclusion (and where's the fun in knowing _exactly _what will happen?) but you're also comforted in setting your mind on something sure, something solid. Something that has to stay alive because if it died…there would be no point in the first place. It would suddenly lose all meaning.

I held up my camera and scrunched my nose and squinted my left eye and clicked the button with my index finger, pulling the winder with my thumb. I relished the sound and how it ricocheted off the metal of the car, coming back to ring my ear drums. I had a stupid photo assignment due today that I only just remembered because it was lying on the front passenger seat, untouched and unused, when I drove to school this morning. How tragic and neglected it looked, itching to capture…something significantly profound.

Bah. I hated that class anyways.

I turned slowly, the teacher's instructions ringing in my ears like the sound of the shutter. _If you were struck blind tomorrow, what images would you want to stay with you? How would they define your life?_

I lifted up the lens and pressed down on the button, catching a frame of my friends all splayed out on the span of Alice's blinding car, reveling in the rare sunshine, all sunglasses and flip-flops and skin, taking advantage of a luxury many people didn't consider a luxury. _Click. _

Shocking as it may seem, today started with the promising gleam of hopeful sunshine. I just wondered how long it would last. When the clouds would set back in. It was a matter of time, after all. Forks did that to you. It was an off day when it didn't rain. I kinda liked it.

But, I'm weird like that. _Bella the Weirdo. _Ha.

I wheel around, observing the school, attempting to find something artistic in a parking lot full of students. I can't wait to come up with my explanations for each picture. And why I would want images of my high school to be what I remembered when I went blind.

For one second, I hesitated, wondering if I should take the assignment seriously, thinking maybe it was fate's way of telling me to get my head out of my ass and think about my life like, deeply and stuff.

I snorted.

_Nah._

I spotted some poor freshman pulling a tiny container out of her gigantic backpack. I zoomed. Oh, sweet Jesus. Glasses cleaner. _Click. _Although that picture might come out a little blurry. I think my suppressed laughter was shaking the camera.

Some guy in my math class throwing cheerios up in the air and catching them in his mouth. I copied off of him a couple of times, I think. _Click. _

I hesitantly looked to the left, towards the back. Wanting not to care but unable to stop my eyes from following that familiar line of sight. That's where they always parked.

If only the cool kids weren't so goddamn entertaining to watch. I could actually focus on my _own _life. And not for the first time today, I thought of Edward. And Rosalie. And hated myself for wishing she really _was_ a bitch instead of some human being with feelings. Because hell, that just made me feel disgusted, dirty. We preach about judging people, about stereotyping and assuming and yeah, we all fucking agree that it's wrong, but do we ever really stop doing it?

No.

How could we? It's in our nature.

Fuck.

It's so easy to put yourself on a pedestal, mocking the sinners and sneering at the saints. Thinking somehow, you're in your own category of human. That you're not included in this joke of a world that uses categorization to organize chaos. But, then you realize. You _are _just as vile and condemnatory as the rest of them. And that is the fucking scariest moment of your life because then…

Who the hell are you?

I watch Jasper, cigarette between his lips, lean back on the hood of his car, gazing at the sky and taking in the sun in a 'beater and aviators. Lauren, digging in her purse, waving her hand around like an idiot. She was probably one of those people who couldn't stand cigarette smoke. Figures. _Click. _

Emmett, flirting and dimples, leans into a window of some random chick's BMW. Upon closer examination I realize it's Jessica's car. Like I said, random chicks that like to fuck. I could've heard her obnoxious guffaw halfway across the country. Her mating call. Gah. _Click. _

I caught the quick movement of Emmett's head as he slyly glanced away from the skank, just for a second. I could read the disguised worry all over his face too. I followed his gaze through the camera lens.

Oh.

I saw Edward's back first, fists clenched and shoulders stiff and jaw locked. His hair was all over the place, messy and standing up, like he'd been running his hands through it all morning. _Click. _

I ignored the warmth oozing down into my belly, the subconscious curling of my toes at the sight of him because well, I had more important tasks at hand. Like finding out what the fuck was going on.

I saw his hand come up fast, fisting in his hair, his head tipped back as his chest rose in a frustrated sigh. His upturned collar brushed against sharp edge of his jaw and his black shirt pulled up to reveal a sliver of hip bone, jutting out just above the waistband of his deliciously low jeans. Jeans that just hung loose and worn, shaped to fit the contours of his body. They weren't new and crisp and ironed. They were old and lovely and soft-looking. I could barely make out the hole over the right back pocket. _Click. _

Christ. I wanted him to lick me.

I moved closer, not really caring that I looked like the fucking paparazzi. That hole was like, reeling me in. A magnetic pull that I had no interest in fighting. I lost all clarity of thought. I felt like an insect drifting towards a bright light, not entirely sure that the light itself was a good or a bad thing, and not really caring all the same. Hell, I was even getting all poetic and shit.

And then I glimpsed Rosalie, leaning up against Edward's car looking like it was the only thing keeping her upright. _Click. _

I stopped, completely frozen in place, wanting, no, needing to be touching that goddamn hole in his goddamn jeans. And knowing that I had to just stay invisible, for her sake. In order to somehow understand.

Her.

Him.

Me.

Fuck.

I hate making life-altering decisions. There's all this pressure…and shit.

I continued to creep forward, drawn to her. She looked just…so hopeless and so tired and so awful. Her hair hung haphazardly around her face, limp and lifeless. Her chin jutted out, protruding unnaturally from her face, her cheekbones sharp and her face gaunt and her eyes drowning in the black circles underneath. _Click. _

Her jeans hung off her waist, her blouse engulfing her frame. She was withering away before my eyes. There was this constant shadow about her, despite the happy rays of sun. Jesus. When did she get so goddamn skinny? _Click. _

I watched as Edward turned¾I could see his face¾and then quickly turned back again to face Rosalie, but not before I caught the look of pure agony and despair that crossed it. He looked trapped. And stuck. Like he wasn't even sure what to do. Edward Cullen _never _looked like that. It was wrong and…_unnatural. _

And for a second, just one second, I hated having witnessed anything in the first place. Having noticed that something was off. Because it was so much easier to just accept things, people, places, the way you had always perceived them to be. For when truth finally did rear its ugly head¾if but for the briefest of moments; that masquerade, that disguise you were once so comfortable with completely unearthed¾you almost wish you had never really seen it at all. _Click. _

I got closer, leaning against the side of some stranger's car and tilting my head forward in order to hear what they were saying. I put down my camera, fiddling with it every twenty seconds to make it look like I was just some dumb kid trying to take pictures for some lame assignment the day it was due. Which was true.

"I don't get it, Rose. I just don't fucking understand." I could barely hear over the noise of laughter and cars and adolescence going on all around me. He wasn't looking at her, but he was close enough to. And he was shouting, voice harsh and aggressive. He was looking through his car window. To her right.

He couldn't even look at her.

He stopped. His chest moving up then down, obviously trying to remain calm.

I glance down to fiddle. Then I'm back.

The rest was whispered, but still audible, words pushed through clenched teeth. "I mean, we've come this far and you pull all this shit. We're so close, Rose. So fucking close. And you can't even seem to function like a human being anymore. No more pretending, huh?" Edward stepped back, looking around, forcefully shoving his hands in his pockets. Not even expecting an answer.

Rosalie just stared at nothing. Blank. Empty.

Should I fiddle ag--oh fuck it.

I jumped as Edward punched his car window, right next to her face. Rosalie didn't so much as flinch.

I swallowed the spit that kept gathering in the back of my throat over and over, fighting the urge to throw up the granola bar I had eaten for breakfast as I watched Edward stalk away, his posture fierce and itching for a fight. For release. It scared me to see something so real, as the sun shone on, bright and clear, keeping everything in vivid focus. Everything was so fucking sunny and intense and _sharp._ It almost hurt to keep my eyes open. But I didn't dare close them. I could hear myself gulping repeatedly.

I tore my gaze away from Edward's wavering figure as the heat swirled all around us, sunlight sparkling off his back and red gleaming from his bowed head, to look at Rosalie. She hadn't moved.

She looked lifeless. A dead girl walkin'. I watched her struggle to stand up, bracing her hands against the side of Edward's car for support. Her wrists were like skeletons. Just bones. And skin. She slowly pulled her gaze eye-level with the cracked window. Her movements were so laborious, like she had to put so much effort into everything. Her right hand came up and she lazily slid her index finger down, tracing the lines Edward's fist had left. And slowly, oh so slowly, she leaned her head forward, pressing her lips down on the window's surface. Her hands slid over the car, fingers trailing and stroking and then she was up and walking away like nothing had happened. Like everything was fine, just fine. Only it wasn't. She still had that empty look in her eyes, still walked to nowhere, still remained hollow and unresponsive and exhausted. But the moment was gone with no transition to separate then from now.

The fuck was she doing?

I saw Emmett out of the corner of my eye take a step to follow Rosalie. Only to take it back. And then tell Jessica something that made her giggle, gripping the edge of her car, whether to restrain himself or to support himself, I couldn't tell you. But he'd probably leave indentations.

Jasper continued to smoke, dragging the air around him and tilting his lips up to exhale, observing everything silently.

Everyone had their place. Their respective boundaries. No one would dare cross that line.

I brought the camera up for the last time.

_Click. _

* * *

**AN: Okay, so thank you all for reading. And if you did r****ead and are reading this AN, review. Please. Tell me what you think of Bella, of the sky, of Ritz crackers, anything you want. **

**Warning--major rant ahead. **

**So, I know the development is really slow, but I want you readers to know that there's a lot of just, like, major shit to come. It just may not come at the pace you want it to. I'm attempting to experiment with Bella's character and I wanted to really delve into her thought process because this story is ultimately about how she as a person changes. And maybe some other people that change along the way as well. But seriously folks, there is a lot going on here and I can only write the next chapter if you guys give me feedback and let me know that you are genuinely interested in where this goes. Oh, and btdubs, as you can tell, there will be swearing. So heads-up for some mature material in the future--sex, underage drinking and the like. **

**And to all you lurkers out there, yes I see you. I know you are there because of the alerts and favorites in my inbox. I used to be one of you. I hated reviewing because I just thought I was so unworthy of telling the author anything of importance, but I've learned that even a simple "loved it, can't wait for another update" would go a long way. The author wants to know what you as a reader thinks. It's okay to come out of the shadows and say what you think. Trust me, it's liberating. So, try it and I promise you I won't bite. I might actually send you a virtual hug and some fuckhot pics of Rob. If that isn't incentive, I honestly don't what is. **

**If you want some tips on leaving a review, here's the link to an article on the Lazy, Yet Discerning Ficster written by **_**withthevampsofcourse, **_**my fucking fan fiction idol and super cool master of all things (if you haven't read ****Must Have Been Love**** or her collaboration with **_**Jandco**_**--****Scotch, Gin, and the New Girl****, I do not know what the hell you do with your life. GO READ THEM NOW. Then we can be friends). **

**Okay, ff is being a bitch and not letting me post the link, so it'll be on my profile. Please, read it. It's amazingly helpful. **

**Whew. Okay, sorry had to get that out. This is turning into an epic-sized AN. **

**If you're still with me, thanks for hanging on for the ride. **


	7. Night

**This one goes to sah0004 for being spectacular and for giving me feedback and for telling me to KEEP GOING, despite my lack of reviews. **

**You get a Jasper tip of the hat. **_**Swoon. **_**And a raised shot glass from me. Not as hot, I know, but…here's to you. **

**This chappie was a smidge…different. I don't know. I just went with it, we'll see how you like. **

**I own purple sunglasses, a neon green headband and a 70's alarm clock. Not these characters. That's all SM. **

* * *

It's cold.

I'm walking through downtown Port Angeles at a quarter 'til midnight and I'm really fucking cold.

There are lights dancing around me, random blasts of music, pulsing bass and then silence, the bouncing of red and yellow and green on a sticky sidewalk.

I clutch my purchases to my chest (a used copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets and a withered, heavy English dictionary) and hold my sweater over my shoulder.

Because I don't want to put it on.

I'm wearing a short black dress that shows too much cleavage and high top converse. Sometimes there are nights when I feel the need to dress up and put on a mask of make-up and go out and watch people cross streets and stare at walking signs changing and flirt with the boy at the coffee shop.

It's being in a place where nobody knows me. I'm a stranger to them like they're all strangers to me. Even as someone brushes by me, ogles my tits, glances at me for less than a second; they are all strangers. They all have their own lives and somehow, I've managed to sneak into each one of them. Not significantly, but present for a moment in time nonetheless. Like being in the background of a picture taken by a someone you don't know. You won't ever know you were in it. But when they develop their film, they'll see your face staring at the camera, blurry and haunting, blankly gazing into the lens of a camera belonging to a stranger. A mistake. They don't know who the hell you are. But, they accept it. It's okay.

You're allowed to make your mark on something so small.

I'm shivering and I think I can hear my teeth clicking against each other and someone has just made a pass at me or my boobs (I think) but all I can do is walk. And just stare at everything. Night and darkness and vitality.

It's so cold.

I can feel it. And I love that I can feel something so severe, so in-your-face, so biting and unwavering and powerful. It nips at my hair, at my cheeks, at my dress, wanting pieces of me to take along the rest of its journey.

I feel alive.

I don't give a shit that I'll probably get sick or that my stomach is growling or that my eyes are drooping or that nothing ever makes sense because…

I'm alive and cold and real.

Alone. Just…waiting. For my life to happen.

I'm tired of being surrounded by strangers who think they know the real me. Who think they know the solutions to my problems. Who think they know what I want.

The hell they do.

Nobody does.

Not even me.

I long for companionship but despise that calculating turn of lip. I long for someone to finish my sentence but am fearful of predictability.

I'm sick of feeling lonely and lost in a crowd.

I love the unaccountability and the curiosity and the fleetingness of being surrounded by people I don't have a care to know.

Alienation can be a blessing in disguise.

Maybe.

I am a mystery even to myself. Do I embrace it?

Or fight it?

Can sanity be judged by just one person?

I'm pulling up to my house, my truck loud and grumbling from the long journey home, and I park, idling the engine, hesitant to pull out the key. My house looks ominous and silent, the windows dark and the porch creaking with the wind.

It's the only refuge I've ever known. And now it reminds me of the haunted houses I used to play ding-dong-ditch on with my friends. I was pro at dares.

No fear. I was that tomboy girl who was up for anything, who dreamed of being a pirate, and who wished her parents were secret agents.

Whatever happened?

Well.

My parents' marriage was an act of young, irrational love. It burned hot, then cold the day my mom walked out. And left me behind.

Just like me. Once a sassy, vibrant firebird. Now a desolate, angry cynic just watching the world pass me by. A simple, vindictive observer.

She called every birthday, holiday, just because. To make up for it, I guess. It sure as hell didn't make growing up without her all better. Her love was embodied in that check that came every month.

End of story.

I would just take that damn check and deposit it into the same account. Every time.

Just because she fucked her life up didn't mean I had to.

I accepted it, my lonely childhood. And that's just the way things were.

I was going to college. I was going to have some substance, some reason to stay in the same place, if only for the next four years. If I did crave change if wouldn't be because I was flighty or unstable or restless…just no.

It wouldn't be because I was in any way like my mom. Like Renee Dwyer, that lady who was paying my future tuition to Escape-From-the-Average-Hell-Hole-of-Life University.

She didn't deserve to have me spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that I did not have a visible mother around as a child. Besides, I had Charlie. He was a straight-forward, ask-no-questions kind of guy who loved me from afar. Too scared and too hurt to get more involved. Needless to say, he was there when I needed him. Answered when I asked him a question. Reminded me that I wasn't alone in that decrepit, whispering house.

She had her life. He his. And I had mine.

We were all so different, even if we shared the same blood. Even if we could've been one happy family. We all chose to walk down paths away from each other.

Hell, I was running. I wanted out.

I reversed back out of the driveway, longing for anything but my room and its dark corners. The engine roared in my ears, disrupting the cold silence of my neighborhood.

I smiled with the glee of ruling the night at three a.m. My eyelids fought for control and my mind pushed the haze of sleep forcefully to the deep crevices of my brain. I felt high and natural and mysterious under the seductive coat of darkness and moon and stars.

It was funny how night made you feel like you could do anything. Completely unstoppable. I basked in the feeling.

I rolled down my window, letting the sharp wind whip my hair back from my face and hit my eyeballs. Everything else was still as I wheeled past, loud and giddy and flying. I drove to my favorite hangout.

Thank God for 24-hour donut shops.

I pulled in to the familiar spot just outside Forks. It was like a beacon of light, calling to me with promises of fried goodness and caffeine.

The 'Always Open' sign made me feel at home as I stepped in, my jacket thrashing about me. I walked through the doors, smelling baked sweets and too-hot coffee, stuffing my hair into my hood, and surveyed the room.

I wasn't surprised to see people here. People on computers, people snoring with their heads on tables, people reading and studying. People who were just like me. At the same exact place.

I was, however, severely disappointed.

I was no longer the special, all-powerful creature of the night. Just some random girl running from nightmares. Who needed coffee. Badly.

I mouthed 'I'll be right back' to the poor bastard at the register, pointing to the bathroom down the hallway situated off to the side.

I tried not to teeter into a wall on the way there, focusing on the door as if it was the fucking light at the end of the tunnel. Like I said, I needed coffee.

I peed for what seemed like forever, noticing a new scuff on my shoe. I washed my hands and looked up into the splattered mirror and scared the living shit out of myself.

Jesus. I looked like a zombie. Hell, I felt like a zombie.

My eyes were half-closed, my eyebrows sloping down as if they themselves needed to take a rest too, my make-up smeared and my hair looking windblown and wild. I was a mess that even I didn't feel like cleaning up.

I dried my hands and used my index fingers to push up my eyebrows, attempting to look somewhat normal. They just slumped back down.

Eh. I turned the handle on the knob and walked out, looking down at my shoes. I had a weird feeling I was always looking at them. That is, when I wasn't taking in my surroundings. Somewhere in my jumble of thoughts I observed that my laces were untied. On both feet. I faintly hummed that stupid tune about putting one foot in front of the other.

And collided with something. I looked up expecting a wall but saw a face instead.

A really, _really_, attractive face. With emerald eyes and square jaw and 5'oclock shadow and fuck me.

It was him.

My hero.

Not again. With his hands in the same exact place, burning holes into my skin.

We stared, both just unsure of what the hell to do next. I hoped he recognized me. Or didn't. I wasn't sure which would be more humiliating. Either way, I recognized him.

I hadn't been around him for more than two seconds and I was already dying to touch him. Fighting myself as much as gravity, I attempted to detach myself from his strong, capable hands.

But he wouldn't let go. He was still supporting me. It actually, kind of, truly _pissed _me off.

Because. Who the hell was he to be here, right now, catching me and saving me and being all beautiful and warm and beautiful?

"What _the fuck _is your problem?" I asked. Demanded, really. I don't know why I was mad. But, who the hell questions emotions this early in the morning?

I was a girl. We're irrational like that, right?

He looked completely taken aback. His mouth just hung open. And it was really turning me on. That made me even more mad.

I swatted away his hands because, fuck, he looked so damn _good _at three in the morning. And, honestly, fuck him for being able to wear one of those douche beanies and a stupid aviator jacket and look like he just walked out of an 'effin magazine ad.

My vision tilted to the side. Fuck. Why wouldn't anything stay still?

"Whoa. Hey, I got you." Firm hands caught me again. I could get used to this. "Are you okay?"

Smooth.

Gentle.

And everything broke. Because no one had ever asked me that and really cared about my answer. And his voice, just really wanted to know if I was. Okay, I mean.

And then my cheeks were wet. And I was crying and sobbing those big, dramatic, stupid sobs that penetrated deep down into my chest and everything was shaking and I couldn't see and I just couldn't stop. I was all over the place tonight.

Poor, poor little me.

"Shit" was all I heard as I felt him lower us down onto the floor, leaning us both against the wall and guiding my head into his chest as my shoulders shook and my chest heaved, releasing silent tears that just came crashing and crashing and pushing and pulling and stealing my breath away.

Oh hell. I was being _such _a girl. But I couldn't help it. I'd never had the chance. Damn my dysfunctional upbringing, damn my delusional mother, damn my need to prove something to everybody, damn my judgmental and distrustful outlook on fucking everything, damn…just damn it all to hell.

I was too far gone emotionally to be embarrassed.

And then I was hiccupping. Weak, miserable hiccups as I tasted salt and leather and felt his hands, soothing and tentatively rubbing circles on my back.

Huh. Have I mentioned I love being a girl?

I started counting my breaths and I had gotten to about ten when suddenly, he pulls back, tipping my chin up before I could tuck it in shame.

I probably looked like a hideous raccoon. After it's been run over.

And God. Edward was just there. Edward Cullen was comforting _me_. And as snot ran down my lip and mascara slipped down my cheeks like black tears and spit hung off the side of my face, he looked me in the eye and made me forget all those things.

We were so close. Breathing each other's air. The black circles under our eyes a mirror of our mutual insomnia. Of our shared escape from sleep and peace.

"Do you have a hair clip?" He asks, all soft and husky and sleepy.

I nod, my eyes trapped in his penetrating gaze, reaching my hand in my jacket pocket to confirm that I did, in fact, bring one with me.

"Go into the bathroom, get all that fucking make-up off your face, put your hair up, and tie your goddamn shoes. Okay?" He slips a lock of my hair behind my ear. I'm too tired to blush.

I attempt to give him my best who-the-hell-_are_-you look. But I think it comes out looking like my eyes are permanently crossed and my jaw is no longer connected to my face.

He laughs softly. His breath smelling of coffee and, _shit, _I want him to kiss me. "I have an older sister in college. She had breakdowns all the time. Let me guess, chocolate donut?"

I beamed without really even thinking about it, teeth and all. "With sprinkles."

When he stared at my mouth a second longer than necessary, I was horrified that I might have something stuck in my teeth. Not that I could remember the last time I ate something. But, gah, no man can offer chocolate without making a girl's day. Or night. Or morning.

What-thefuck-ever.

He gripped my elbows as I stood up. Then placed his hand on my lower back, keeping me steady as he opened the bathroom door and closed it on his way out. "If you take longer than six minutes, I'm going to break down the door." He spoke through the wooden barrier.

I smiled in spite of myself. I don't think I've ever smiled this much in a whole day.

Kneeling down to tie my shoes, I pondered the absurdity of my circumstances. And decided that if this was some sick joke, some dream I'd have to wake up from, well I just didn't give a fuck. Because I'd take it.

I stood up and stared at the mirror. "We meet again."

I proceeded to follow his instructions--scrubbing my eyes and blowing my nose and pulling my after-sex(pah!) hair into a messy bun--without ever looking in the mirror again. He made me, just not care.

I did, however, notice that my teeth had no remnants of food and were not, as I had also feared, falling out. Interesting.

I walked out of the bathroom and scanned the room again, this time secretly thrilled when I was met with a familiar face. Someone I knew. Someone I could share a table with.

I barely made it to the corner table where he was sitting before grabbing my coffee and gulping it down like it was the last bottle of water on earth. After I'd finished about half I swiped my sleeve over my mouth (no mother, remember?) and sat down, looking over at Edward.

His mouth was open. Again. This time, I reach over and push it shut. I squint my eye at him. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing. I just. That's coffee. Hot coffee. And you just straight chugged that bitch."

I shrugged. My eye still squinting. I think it was stuck. "High tolerance from my many years of long nights. What did you put in it?" I asked, curious. But it came out sounding more accusatory than I had intended.

"Two sugars. Some half-and-half and some non-fat milk." He listed nonchalantly.

I was surprised. Oh, wait, older sister. Right.

"Actually, I don't put non-fat milk in my coffee. Just lots of cream." I gestured at my scrawny body. I had always been like that. I never really worried about non-fat anything. Alice hated me for it. Even though she was skinnier than me and had all the right curves. Maybe she was just envious of my height? "I like it sweet."

His eyes followed my hand. And remained glued to my chest. I thought I was wearing a jacket…

Oh. I look bewilderingly down at my opened jacket and displayed cleavage. Whoops. I snapped my attention back up to him, curious as to what the hell was going on behind that dark gaze and if my boobs were really nice enough to tempt _him_.

His eyes traveled slowly back up to my face, lingering and hot all over, and when he realized I had been watching him the entire time, he quirked his eyebrow and smirked at me. Completely unapologetic. Completely and totally asking to be thrown against the wall. "Long night?" He inquired, oozing innuendo and sex.

I was suddenly ravenous.

For that chocolate, sprinkled donut sitting right beside my coffee. I took a huge bite and muttered an "umm-hummph" and tried to look anywhere but at him. I justified it by thinking that 'long night' could mean a variety of different things despite the sinful look in his eyes.

Despite my nonexistent social life. Or sex life. Or real life.

Sometimes I wondered if I just sucked at living. Period.

The donut was delicious and amazing and wonderful in all its fattening glory. I distantly tried to recall that adage about starving men and horrible food. Eh.

As soon as I was finished, I started licking the tips of my chocolate-covered fingers and froze when I realized he was staring at me. Well, at my mouth, as I sucked the sugar remnants off my skin. Hungrily.

"Did you get a donut?" I blurted out, needing an excuse not to jump across the table, straddle his lap and lick his neck and throw caution to the wind.

"No." He shook his head, side to side, slowly. As if trying to focus really hard on something.

I tilted my head to the side, waiting patiently because I knew there was something he wanted to say.

"I never…" He paused, hesitant. He looked up at me all questioning and sincere and crazy handsome. "It's just really fucking hot watching a girl eat with like, no reservations."

I huffed. Completely embarrassed and shocked by his revelation.

"No, no. Don't take that the wrong way." He held his hands up in front of him, as if convincing the enemy he was surrendering. "It's just that…" He looked away.

No. We were not talking about her. This was _my _dream. She wasn't in it.

She already ruled reality. I would get to her problems when I woke up.

"Yeah." I say. "I know." Even though I'm not sure I do.

We both looked at each other and knew. Some things were better left unsaid.

For now.

We were hiding out, seeking cover under the black of night and the neon of donut shop lights.

And then I remembered. That I was sitting across from Edward Cullen. That I had cried snot all over him. That he had been caught staring at me, on more than one occasion. This stuff didn't happen to people like me.

"Is this for real?" I asked, needing the see the reassurance in those green eyes. Something real in him, to tie me down to where I was in this moment.

Right…

Now.

"Yes." He replied solemnly, his eyes never leaving mine. An anchor weighing down my restless spirit. Somehow, he understood how important the question really was.

Somehow, he knew not ask why. Or how. Or when. Or what-the-hell.

We could just…be.

We eased into conversation like we'd known each other all our lives. Forgetting that he was a cocky, rich prick and I a derisive, cutting hard-ass.

We talked about college and school drama and laughed over Emmett's ploy to get revenge on his teachers and snickered over Jessica's rumored fling with Mr. Banner and criticized each others' musical taste and quoted Oscar Wilde and Emerson and freakin' Byron and fought over the significance of _Howl_ and slam poetry and drank coffee. Lots of coffee.

And I forgot who he was. Who he was supposed to be. Because this Edward, was a helluva lot better than the gorgeous boy I watched from afar.

And he was even more gorgeous up close.

I felt liberated. Somehow, I could see parts of myself when I was talking to him. Pieces I recognized and pieces that surprised me, but all pieces that made up a part of who I was.

It was like looking in the mirror one day and finally saying, "Oh there you are. I've finally found you. You're me. _That's _what I'm supposed to look like."

Only I was looking at him. And he wasn't a reflection, but a reminder to keep looking in that mirror, to keep waiting until I'd found all those missing pieces.

I hardly noticed when the sun did come up, peeking over the edge of the earth, sprinkling nature with its light. All I remember was him checking his watch, rays of sun shining off the silver metal, and him saying he'd walk me to my car.

I threw away my trash slowly, squeezing my half-full cup of coffee as a token of this night and wishing I could just live my whole life in this stupid donut shop if it meant spending it with Edward.

He opened the door and gestured for me to walk through. I did so and then stopped, waiting to follow behind him, in awe of the sparks of sun that glinted off his back, lustrous and framing and glowing light around his silhouette.

And despite my current state of autopilot, I still had the ability to appreciate the deep V that was showcased as Edward stretched his arms high over his head. I think I actually moved forward a bit, battling the urge to squat down in front of him, wanting to just stare at it all day.

Glorious.

He turned to me, eyes crinkled and tired and adorable. "So. I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name."

That was all.

You know in the movies, when some asshat delivers that line, that one fucking line, that throws everything off-balance, and you hear that weird, ripping sound of a record being all fucked up?

I swear to effin' God that was the noise that was now reverberating off the walls of my brain. I almost wanted to ask loverboy over there if he had heard it as well.

Maybe this was something he just did. You know, like not recognize people he saved or charm random strangers to get in their pants.

Was that it?

Of course. He was fucking Edward Cullen. And I was nobody. But that sure as hell didn't mean that he could fuck around with my head. Or my heart. My mind dully noted that I probably hadn't been the first.

_You two-timing, sleazy son of a bitch. _

"So, this is the real you, huh, Cullen?" I murmured softly, not caring whether or not he heard me and not wanting to admit just how much this fact hurts. But I think he does hear me because for a second he looks sad and surprised and confused. Like a little boy. Then it's gone, leaving me unsure of ever having witnessed it in the first place. And before I allow myself to process all that shit, I make myself hone in on the anger, the fury, of his cavalier statement.

Of not knowing my name.

Because rage…is not perplexing and irresolute and feeling sorry.

It's easy.

_Older sister, my ass. _

"Fuck you." I tell him, all fierce and precise and lady in control. I was trying to overcompensate for the pain shooting up my ribs. Turning to take a step away from him, I thought of how easily life's happiest moments can turn into its worst. I was just another goddamn walking statistic.

Edward, the real one, was not who I thought he was. And I wanted to cry just from the stupidity of that sentence. How cliché. Maybe the facade was his truth, was his reality, and I just wanted to hope that there was something more. Something real behind it. Human.

"Now wait, would you just hang on for sec?" I could hear that stupid smirk in his ridiculously sexy voice.

Why in fuck's name would he be smirking when all I wanted to do was crawl in a hole and die?

And because I'm a pathetic little girl (and because I was still a sucker who believed in happy endings and second chances), I stop. And wait with my back still turned, arms hanging and fists clenched.

"Seeing as we spent all this time getting to know each other…I just figured I deserved something." He paused, all suave and dramatic and talk-show host.

I waited some more, looking away but seeing nothing. Nothing at all.

"Like maybe…a kiss?" He had the nerve to make the last part start out as a question but end as a demand. I don't even really know how.

On top of _that, _the assfuck had the nerve to sound like I was so goddamn _lucky _to have the honor of even wanting to be kissed by _the _Edward Cullen, boyfriend extraordinaire.

I was seriously getting tired of using his first and last name when referring to the guy. It was getting old. And it was making me _angry_.

I saw red.

Because Edward Cullen (dammit) just spent the night with _me_, in a donut shop, spewing philosophical shit and connecting and being my world and he doesn't even fucking know my name.

That was it.

I walked calm, brisk strides until I was up in his face and I pulled my fist back and I punched his cheek with everything in me because, really, you don't fuck with _Isabella Swan_.

I refused to touch his mouth despite my true heart's desire to smack that damn smirk off his face. Yes, this concern was premeditated. Sue me.

He didn't budge. I mean, his head had turned with the force of the blow, but _fuck, _he could have at least staggered back, like in the movies. But no. Instead, I was the one who stepped back, tenderly cupping my throbbing knuckles with my other hand, attempting to mask any pain that might make it to my face.

The fact that I was extremely pissed did not need to be masked.

I continued to take steps backward, frantically trying to remember where I parked and wondering what in the hell I was supposed to do now. Call him names?

" You… conniving MOTHERFUCKER!" I screamed at him, still backing away. Trying really, really hard not to cry. Because he hadn't recognized me. Because he was a silly, immature boy who needed to grow up and be…real.

And then, sweet Mother Mary and Joseph, he's fucking laughing at me.

_Douchebag. _

"I know you want me." He smirked again, leering at me. His eyes mocking and his hair curling out from underneath his beanie. I wanted to kick him in the crotch.

Because he was right.

But that wasn't the point.

_Fucker. _

"This." he gestured at his swelling cheek (which I looked upon with pride).

"Is all…foreplay." He finishes, his eyes raking up and down my body, all sex and lust and mmm-fuck, that bloody shit-eating smirk still playing on his too-red lips.

I don't even know how to react to that one. My butt suddenly slams into a car while I'm fighting hard not to sob and trying even harder not to run and shove my lips onto his, and I'm _still _trying to back up. Wanting to run away from this crazy, surreal situation but not being able to tear my eyes away from it, in true, masochistic form.

I brace my hand on the car, fighting to catch my breath, my head reeling and spinning and then, _shit_, this is HIS car.

And suddenly my body and mind and heart are one. Confident and sure as hell in this one endeavor.

"Foreplay _this, _bitch." I say as I dump the rest of my coffee on the shining hood of his too-fucking-expensive automobile. I then crush the cup, turning angrily, yet triumphantly, on my heel and chucking the damn thing over my shoulder, without looking back.

_Asswipe. _

I have to fight the urge to do a victory dance when I miraculously recall where I parked.

Only about two cars over from his. Not as long a sexy, to-hell-with-you strut as I would've liked, but alas, this was reality. Not Hollywood. It was good enough for me.

I got the last word.

Ha.

_Dickwad. _

I turn toward the driver's side of my vehicle, digging through my pockets for my keys, frantically needing to get in my truck because if I didn't soon I would look over at him and everything I had just proved would all be shot to hell. Because if he looked at me like that again, I was most definitely gonna do something 'bout it. And that something just might happen up against his coffee-splattered car door. Donut customers be damned.

A girl can only take so much.

I victoriously shoved the key into the lock and got into my car, planning on revving my engine and screeching out of the parking lot, all at about five miles-per-hour but with really awesome sound affects. I'm blowing a strand of hair off my forehead and checking my mirrors and getting ready to get the fuck out and--

"See ya at school, Bella."

* * *

**Longest chapter yet. Whew. I'm actually excited to leave you guys with a cliff-hanger just to see how y'all respond. IF you respond. **

**Per usual, me, the crazy bitch lady author is hounding for reviews. So, please, make my day? **

**Hit the button. What is Edward Cullen up to? If you ask questions, I just might give a hint of an answer. **

**Oh, and sah0004, you are one lovely BAMF. I mean that in every fantastic, possible way. **

**Until next time. **


	8. Bella

**This one goes to sah0004 (again, yes I know , she's just that fucking cool), Uggy (welcome aboard, your speculation is fun), voicethatneversings (I hope someone finally hears your beautiful voice 'cuz your awesome). I heart all y'all. Seriously, you were the driving force behind this little number. Your reviews were incredible.**

**I own a brand new copy of _Iliad_, a retro popcorn maker, and three buttons. All the names here belong to SM. Yeah, I know. It sucks.**

**Betcha didn't see this comin'.**

* * *

"See ya at school, Bella."

All the anger, all the hurt, all the bitterness and distrust and hate that I heartily welcomed a second ago was shot to hell in that one sentence.

God. He was so…just…fuck him. That smug, little mischievous bastard.

You know those moments in life, when you just let go of everything? When you stop asking and analyzing and wondering _what if_?

Yeah well.

My vision is suddenly moving, too fast for me to take in properly, but enough to understand that my feet are no longer attached to my brain. Or that my body is completely detached from this here inner monologue.

This was one of those moments.

Somewhere my brain and the rest of me had been cut off from one other.

I almost feel like I'm narrating. Watching from afar.

But I can feel myself pull the keys out of the ignition, the engine whining in protest from the too-quick movement, throwing them somewhere on the seat and opening that motherbitch of a door--the slippery handle and rusty grip suddenly a nuisance, an irritating obstacle. And stepping down. And walking towards him. And not even shutting the fucking door behind me.

All I can see is him. All I can feel is him. All I can think is.

_Him. _

Because he said _Bella_. Because he said my name before the world and the doughnuts and _me. _

But why play games? Why pretend not to know who I am?

Why pretend at all?

He's a liar and a manipulator and he gets off on messing with nobodies with tits but fuck it if I'm not ready to throw him down and slide of his stupid hat and pull off his jeans and…

Well. Fuck.

So I take steps. I walk. I'm just there. Up close. He's standing in front of my doughnut home away from home like he owns the place. And he's looking at me, all casual and mocking and seductive, like he'd planned this whole goddamn thing.

Like he knew everything. Like he was in control.

And those green eyes are just too hot, too burning in that one second.

And…I can't fucking take it.

Hands (my hands) grab at the sides of his jacket and shove him up against the wall with everything they've (well, _I've_) got.

I'm mesmerized and those eyes. This body. Is no longer in control.

"You're an asshole." I say into his ear, blowing warm air across his neck. I can feel his chest exhale slowly and I can smell soap and cigarettes and hope. I see challenging eyes and a dare or maybe a question and parted lips and that's all I can see. And then I'm kissing him and feeling his lips beneath mine and there's no asking permission there's just heated breath and charged energy and fast, loud heartbeats, beating together.

It's him and me and shared air and mingling breaths and open mouths and his warm, velvet tongue against mine and it's everything. All at once.

I dive in without ever wanting to surface again. He tastes like man and sex and _god_, coffee. And there's no awkward scraping of teeth or bumping of noses, it's just us and our mouths and his warm breath inside of me.

I feel…complete. I feel content in this one place. Finally, wanting and needing and longing to stay. To never move again.

"Fuck," I hear him mutter all breathy and groaning and deep. And suddenly, I'm being moved. I feel his arm wrap around my waist, lifting and crushing me to him, while his other hand grasps behind my knee and hitches it behind his hip. He quickly spins us, effectively pinning me to the wall with no space left in between our frenzied tongues and smoldering bodies.

My eyes are closed and my senses are in overdrive and the world stops. Because who the fuck cares about anything else goin' on in the world?

This was my moment.

I moan at the feeling of the lines and contours and dips of both our bodies, so different and so fascinating, suddenly becoming one. It comes out sounding feral and feminine, low and almost porn-like. Which is weird.

And a bit scary.

I don't recognize it.

Not even knowing what I'm doing or who I really am anymore, I feverishly suck in his bottom lip, licking and biting because his mouth is too smooth and warm and real. I feel rather than hear him groan into my mouth and I'm hot all over, my hands uncontrollable and exploring his muscular chest, his back and shoulder blades, trailing down to slide back and forth beneath the waistline of his jeans.

Because I just can't get enough.

Our tongues dance, not for control, but an amalgamated expression of craze and zeal and fervor. And a thirst that seems entirely unquenchable and never ending.

It terrifies me to think that I might never be able to get enough.

There were panted "fucks" and groans and moans and simple sighs and _shit, _I do believe we were going to hell for all the times we used God's name in vein. Sorry, Jesus. I mean, holy mother of fuck, he was a damn good kisser. It was too fast, too exhilarating, too hot, too strong, just too fucking much.

And I hadn't even removed my shirt.

We never once said each other's name. I wouldn't let myself. Like some uncharted territory we both had no interest in exploring. I was too afraid to even attempt to understand the maze we had both suddenly discovered ourselves immersed in.

Lost. And never wanting to be found.

No questions. No names.

Just. Anonymous.

And then reality hits me like a train wreck.

He had a girlfriend.

I was not a whore.

These things were really important…things.

I tried to get my shit together amidst the haze of taste and tongue and Edward.

I pulled back slightly, attempting to clear my head but still against the ending of this moment. His lips moved with mine, tentatively placing openmouthed kisses on my opened lips, acknowledging my need to slow the kiss down but indicating reluctance on his part as well.

For this…whatever it was, to end.

I mean it sure as shit wasn't kissing.

Kissing was chapped lips, knocking lips together awkwardly, slimey tongues and not knowing where to put your hands.

This was _kissing. _Hell, I don't even know what the fuck to call it.

It was heaven and hell and slow and burning and knowing that it has to end but fighting it anyway.

I tried to regain control even though I didn't want it. Well, in between kisses.

"You." Kiss. "Girlfriend." Kiss. "We." Kiss. "Can't?" Was all I could get out. God, he was just…everywhere.

Ugh. I had to do this.

With all the force left in me (which wasn't much, mind you) I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed, looking down to see the whites of my forearms stretched tight across my skin. And for a second I was flabbergasted to find that we weren't like, somehow welded together. That we weren't one.

Because what we just shared couldn't possibly be shared between two strangers.

Two people who couldn't in any way, shape, or form, ever connect.

Yeah, there was like, the Prince and the Pauper and all that shit about fairytales and happy endings and oh, look the rich prince fell in love with some poor little maid with a too-small waist who shirked her chores and cried way too much and wore enchanting glass slipper that weren't even real.

But seriously, when was the last time you, and I mean you as in the real world you, has ever heard of money marrying the lack thereof?

Come on.

Say it.

Never.

Least around here.

Maybe it happened regularly in Thefuckinghappiestplaceonearth, USA.

But. I sure as fuck didn't live there.

"Listen…we…you and me…this is wrong…you are with someone…and I'm…not…and well, that wasn't what…I was going to say…" I manage to get out in between pants, still staring at my pale forearms.

"Bella--" he starts but stops when I glare up at him.

I don't _do _interruptions. It's fucking rude. Especially when I'm trying to uphold my morals in the presence of godlike, devastatingly handsome creatures who stare at your mouth like they want you and hold your hips too tight, like they never want let you go.

Like they want you to be theirs.

"But…just." I continue to say, struggling to come off reassured and nonchalant but sounding breathless and desperate all the same. "Just stay…away from me…I don't…I don't know you."

The air is heavy and the inhales too loud; my heartbeat is ringing in my ears. Our chests heave up and down. Nothing else seems to be moving. Or alive.

"Well, I know you." He says all not breathless and calm and just plain stupid.

And I hate him. All over again. Because I'm naked before him and I kissed him and I cried on him and I drank coffee with him. In my doughnut shop.

And I didn't even scratch the surface of the real Edward Cullen.

I was just a name. Just a girl. Just…a stranger.

Fate was laughing at me. Probably pissing its pants too.

I'm still glowering and he's still cool as a cucumber and nobody's willing to break eye contact and I just don't know anymore.

I don't know a goddamn thing.

"What do you want?" I ask. Because I just don't know.

"I don't know." He whispers, something flickering behind his eyes, lighting the green for a second before it ebbs slowly back to indifference. "_You _kissed _me_."

"Yeah, well, you're a douchefuck. Anything else?"

"Oh please, Bella." He scoffed, and then he scrunched his eyebrows together, forming this crease in the middle of them, warning me that he was about to blow. "You think you're so fucking better than everyone else just 'cuz you don't give two shits about life. Well guess what, sweetheart? You're not. You have no right to look down your nose at us because you wear black and read Plath novels and listen to classical and say shit like 'obiter dictum' in everyday conversation and pity the fuckers that are stuck here, in this life-sucking town, held down by someone else's legacy. But you, emo-girl, won't ever know that because you're too busy jumping off rooftops exalting in the fact that it's not _you_. And therefore, why the fuck would you care?" His shoulders are moving up and down and his jaw is locked and there's something familiar in this expression of rage.

I'm stunned. I want to cry on him and laugh with him and kiss his mouth all at the same time. I want him to say my name again and say sorry and ask what 'obiter dictum' means and quote Chopin and just kiss him and make it all better and try to understand. But most of all, I don't want him to know me.

I can't trust him.

Even if he is stuck in this shithole…I can't do this.

I don't know if I can care for anyone else.

I was never taught how to, I don't know, come up with the solutions to life's problems.

I just, you know, ran away from them. Ignored them even as they gnawed on the insides of my stomach or stared back at me in my reflection.

Damn you, Renee. I couldn't even take responsibility for them.

I open my mouth, wanting to say something. Wanting to deny it, wanting to hurt him with my words, wanting to comfort him, wanting to just…fix him.

To fix me.

But I knew that I could never fix us.

We were separate. From different worlds.

I'm looking at him and he's not looking at me and I want it all to just…go away. I shut my eyes tight in an attempt to stop some part of me from ruining anything else in my life.

I stand rigid and tight, wishing that I could be confident and sure of myself and say something that would make everything okay.

And softly, tentatively, I feel his cool fingers sliding down my arm, stopping their descent to rub a thumb across my wrist, then continuing further down to cradle my swollen hand.

I feel cold and heat and breath and darkness as I stare at the back of my eyelids, completely delirious and processing every thought for a lot longer than usual.

Finally, it hits me. And I grasp at the answer like my life depends on it.

"No." I mouthe.

His hand doesn't move. I feel his other hand ghost up my stomach, up between my breasts, to cup his hand around my neck, gently drawing figure eights around my collar bone.

I absentmindedly feel the tickling of tears dripping off my chin, slipping down my neck, only to be brushed away by his thumb.

"No." I say louder, barely a hoarse whisper. I feel like choking and dying and getting away from here.

His fingers still.

"I…" _need you to be real. Want a reason to stay. Long for something I'll never find. _

"I'm tired." Is all that comes out.

My eyes open and sunlight rushes in too fast as I stare at the flashing sidewalk and the flickers of reflecting windows and slowly, walk away.

For the second time that night/morning, I cried away all the water and salt and snot and hope left in body.

But this time, it was all over my steering wheel.

And my neck had a crick and my shoulders were numb and my legs fell asleep.

And that was all.

* * *

**Someone asked what I listened to when I wrote so I thought I'd tell ya again.**** These songs have nothin' to really contribute to the chappie but eh. Thought you guys might like to know what I was listening to. **

**Gives You Hell -- American Rejects**

**Ignorance -- Paramore**

**Teenagers -- My Chemical Romance**

**Self-Esteem -- The Offspring**

**Come Out and Play -- The Offspring**

**Fat Lip -- Sum 41**

**Love Hurts -- Incubus**

**Kiss Off -- Violent Femmes**

**Heh. I'll admit that some of these tunes were just a trip down memory lane. Can ya blame me?**

**Oh and just to play it on the safe side, the name 'douchefuck' fully and wholly belongs to jandco's and wtvoc's vocaboolary. (Used in Saturday School, btdubbs)**

**I wanted to cry from all the reviews I received. Honestly. You guys are the best. Couldn't have done it without your support. Please, keep 'em coming. It makes me write faster. **

**And also, I am dying to know what you all think. Surprising? Awful? Want some totally unhelpful teasers? I may or may not be offering some sneak peeks if you leave super awesome reviews. **

**Yes. This is called bribery. **

**Anyone?**


	9. Intermingling

**This one was a bit trickier. Sorry, we're still building up here. **

**I don't own Twilight. End of story. **

**Hah. **

* * *

It was a new day.

Maybe, if I never looked over my shoulder again, I would just forget.

Maybe, all that shit behind me would just…disappear.

"Shopping this weekend, right?" Alice was saying, jumping on her tiptoes so her nose could just barely reach my knee.

"Sure." I respond from the top of my truck, staring at the vending machines across the parking lot.

Some Van Morrison song rattles loudly beneath me, shaking my neck and eardrums.

"You're going to the dance next Friday, right?"

"Sure." _No. _

I wait for her to leave so I can listen to silence and static.

She does. I hear the quiet purr of her engine as she drives away.

I'm watching an empty school slowly become more empty and a sky that never changes. I don't know how long I lay there, watching and waiting and listening.

My foot taps the fender, the beat never wavering, reminding me that I'm still alive.

That my heart's still _boom-booming _in my chest.

It's gray and cold and there's a loud slapping of shoes that disrupts my symphony.

Someone's walking by, someone with long hair and baggy clothes and "hey" I'm saying before I can think, propping up on my elbows, my foot still tap tapping, not even knowing what else to say.

And she halts, looking up at me in shock as a gasp escapes her lips, eyes red and buggy, cheeks wet with streaks trailing zigzags across her face.

"Are you okay?"

She laughs in an exhalation of breath, almost a huff, as if it was the stupidest question in the world.

_No, _I wanted to say, _it's not. _

I watch her eyes narrow, mistaking my concern for something else; judging me. "You know, people may find our lives, our _problems,_ fun to watch and gossip about, but they don't know anything. Okay? They know nothing about me. So don't go asking questions like that, pretending that you _care_," she sneered on the last word, her face scrunching up. "Because it really is none of your business."

I continue to stare at her, no reaction coming to me. I think I'm just…confused.

She plows on, just fucking berating me for asking three simple words.

Goddamn. Someone needs therapy…

"And really, I mean come on, you _expect _me to just tell you about my day like we know each other or something?" She's stalking forward, stepping closer so she towers over me, all pointed fingers and bent backs, her face menacing and I'm no longer sorry for her. "Seriously, who are you? Who do _you _think you are?"

Christ, if this crazy freak doesn't move back she's gonna fucking poke my eye out.

I almost want to laugh because shit, I only asked her if she was okay. And I'm honestly considering answering her rhetorical question and maybe giving her a much-needed spiel of my own when "Rosalie, leave her the fuck alone."

I freeze. Not moving and keeping my eyes only on her, I watch Rosalie take a step back, her eyes losing their fury, her shoulders slumping, face smoothed away of any emotion that had, seconds ago, been targeted at me.

I try really hard not to look towards the voice.

But my efforts are all for shit because he's already walking past, brushing by Rosalie and pulling out his keys.

Rosalie doesn't say a word, doesn't stomp her feet or scream or blink as she awkwardly shifts her feet and turns to follow Edward.

I listen to car doors slam and they're gone, leaving me to wonder at the absurdity of it all. I don't even have the balls to tilt my head or open my eyes to watch Edward's car screech out of the lot, don't have the energy to hope for a melodramatic shot of melancholy me reflected in his rearview mirror. I don't want to notice how Rosalie's car slides to the exit, invisible and transparent, not making a sound and creeping away, almost as if it were trying to pretend that it wasn't there at all, that it hadn't ever been there. That the low rumbling of engine was a mere hint of its existence, and well, that just couldn't be helped.

* * *

If I was curious about how Edward would act before…well. I knew now.

Like nothing had changed.

I drove home wondering how it was that people could just disappear. How someone could step into your life and just as quickly step out, without you ever noticing because they just weren't important enough to remember.

The cupboard was empty and no joke, I think I saw a lone cobweb hanging from the top of a shelf. It was funny, when I thought about it, how easy it would be for me to transition into living on my own. Because I felt like I was already doing it, plus one.

I'd learned to survive all on my own and it made me feel…pathetic and too grown-up, too damn fast.

The man who delivered the pizza got paid an extra ten dollars simply for listening to my ranting about there being no food in the goddamn house without sighing or rolling his eyes or shifting his feet. He just stared at my forehead, muttering and politely standing there, just taking it.

I loved people like that.

His nametag read _Bill. _

"I like you, Bill." I said.

"Uh-huh." He grunted.

"Do you like your job, Bill?"

"Yes."

"How do you stand all those raging bitches who can't make their own fucking dinner and decide to take it out on the poor fucker who just delivers the pizza?"

He starts, meeting my gaze, his eyes suddenly intelligent and focused. "I act like I care and move on." He pauses, seeming to think about it. "After all. It's their life, not mine. I'm just trying to earn a livin', you know?"

"Yeah." I say. "I do know."

I set the table with napkins, forks and knives, trying out this method I saw on the food network. I place the pizza box in the center, moving it around, attempting to make the table appear more sophisticated and homey than another take-out meal.

I step back to the doorway of the kitchen and it looks pitiful.

Charlie's clunking footsteps sound loudly in the empty living room behind me.

"Bells?" He calls softly, his feet still moving toward me.

I don't turn around, entranced by the fancy array of utensils and napkins that look blood red up against the wood of the table.

There are only two place settings and this just hurts. More than it ever has before.

I push off the door frame and hurriedly gather up my forks and knives, clunking and noisy, rushing to put them back before Charlie can see. I hastily pull out two paper plates and slap them down atop the greasy pizza box.

I don't want him to see what hurts me, what I hope for, what I wish I could have. Because once it was out there, you could never, ever, take it back.

"Pizza?" He asks, inquiring quietly. As though it wasn't staring up at him from the dinner table. He doesn't wait for an answer though, he just sits down to eat, helping himself to a piece, obviously hungry. He glances up at me, pausing, his hand halfway reaching toward the pizza box.

I obediently take a seat. I gently push his hand away and carefully situate three pieces on a plate and take comfort in performing this one menial task without messing it up.

We eat in silence. I chew without tasting. Swallow.

Repeat.

I'm thinking about not thinking about Edward and Renee and Rosalie and pizza when Charlie abruptly clears his throat.

"So, uh, how's school going?"

I'm so used to the sound of food being consumed during dinner that his voice hardly registers and the question passes through my brain without giving me a chance to grasp it. I go with the neutral answer to any question simply because I don't have the energy to ask him to repeat his question.

"Fine."

"Your friends are all good?"

I nod. "They're fine."

An uncomfortable silence stretches between us. A deep chasm forming right before my eyes and all I can do is stare at my greasy fingers.

"She called me. Renee." He says gruffly, trying not to sound attached to that name. Trying not to sound like it still pained him to say it out loud.

I jump at her name. "What did she say?"

My father's eyes level with mine and I can see the cop in him behind the wear of age and years, sharp and penetrating. "You've been ignoring her calls."

I shrug. Guilty. It was recklessly thrilling to see the high number of voice messages that I had yet to listen to, and probably, never would.

"She wants to know what's going on." He continues, "She's worried about you…worried you're getting to a point in your life where you look upon everything with bitter, angry regret."

I snort. _You're about ten years too late, Renee. _"Did she read that in one of her _How to Get Over Abandoning One's Kin 101 _books?"

"Oh Bells, you know it wasn't like that." Charlie says tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

_Like hell it wasn't. _

"Look, she loved you then. She still loves you. She was just too young to process the reality of being a mother. So just…call her, will you?"

"Oh that's a bunch of bullshit and you know it. She doesn't love me. She wouldn't have _left _me here if she loved me. I wouldn't _still _be here if she loved me, right this second. So don't go defending the woman who broke your heart, the woman you're still in love with because guess what? She fucking left you too. And I just don't give a fuck about _Renee Dwyer_ anymore. She's a stranger to me. A _stranger._"

I stared at Charlie, indignant and broken, watching him stand there, shaking with anger as he told me to watch my language, and I knew he could say nothing more. He couldn't tell me my mother had changed, that she wanted to make things right.

Because that would be _lying. _

I stood without throwing my plate away, without cleaning up the table, without washing the grease off my fingertips, and ran to my room.

I didn't cry, didn't wail, didn't write in my diary or say a prayer. I just climbed into bed, squeezed my eyes shut, and willed myself to sleep.

* * *

I'm running down the halls to my first period class because in all my tantrum, teenage angst-ridden antics, I'd forgotten to set my fucking alarm clock.

Eff my life.

My class all turns to stare at me, breathless and wet from all the times I fell on my back, and I can feel the teacher's glare on my back as I slip into my seat, my stupid boots squeaking and leaving a trail of water behind me.

"Why are ya late, you little rebel you?" whispers a too-perky Alice from beside me.

I suppress a groan. "My alarm clock didn't go off." I lie. Sorry alarm clock, it's not you, it's me.

"Oh. That sucks."

"Yeah." I say hoping to end all further conversation, searching my backpack to find a pencil.

"So, I was talking to Jasper--"

"Have you fucked him yet?"

She pretends to look shocked, but really. "Bella!" She says my name in rebuke.

"Well?"

"No. Of course not, Bella. Get real."

"Then I don't care."

She does this little pucker thing with her lips, looking all hurt and _Christ_, she really annoys the fuck outta me sometimes. "Well. He was asking about you."

I stop searching. "Who is this again?"

Alice looks exasperated. Heh. Join the club. "Jasper, silly."

"Oh?" I continue searching. If I acted like I cared as much as I did, it would be a lot harder to get Alice to come out with it. Plus, it was a million times more entertaining to see her react to my indifference regarding something that so obviously had to do with me. I think she expected me to jump up and down, clapping my hands and begging her to tell me exactly what had come out of Jasper's lovely mouth. But I wasn't her. Or Jessica.

Bleh. Thank God.

I waited. Because I knew it wouldn't be long.

"If you must know, he asked if I was really close to you. And I was all, 'Duh, she's like my BFF.' "

I try really, really hard not to start banging my head on my desk.

Alice continues, disgruntled and grumpy because it finally sinks in that I'm not going to go all girly and breathy on her just because Jasper knows who I am. "Yeah and he just said that you were chill and stuff."

"Wow. Jasper said I was chill. That's the most exciting thing I've heard in a while."

And poor Alice completely misses the sarcasm dripping from my voice. "I know, right? Like, oh my gosh, I had to play it off, like whatever, right? Of course she's chill…"

And I shut out her voice.

Because people like that…piss me the fuck off.

_I'm such a bitch. _I laugh to myself.

"Bella?" Alice's screeching voice shakes me from my carefully tuned-out thoughts. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

Oops. "No, no. I said there's something wrong with the uh…light switch."

"Okay, well I was wondering if…"

And we're off. Welcome to another day of hell.

* * *

I'm standing in line to pay for my lunch, making a mental list of reasons why I shouldn't call Renee, music blasting from my headphones, droning out everyone else's words.

And I'm leaning over to get napkins, since every fucktard I eat with always forget to grab something to wipe their face with, when one of my headphone drops with a clank on the counter. I'm reaching out to grab the damn thing, when I distinctly hear Lauren's nasally voice above all the clamor of the cafeteria. My ears zone in, maybe out of instinct, maybe out of curiosity, but all I know is I want to hear what the fuck she's saying.

"…and like, I understand if you don't like the fact that Edward lied to you, but I just wanted to upfront with you. I mean, you deserve to know, right? You're his girlfriend…"

I whip around to see Rosalie looking stricken, hand clutching the table, while Lauren continues to blabber on, Tanya and Victoria and Kate leaning in closer, anxious to hear every word. Edward sits two seats away from her, completely oblivious, watching Emmett make farting noises with his armpit and Jasper drum the top of the table like the fucking bongos or something.

Without thinking, I walk purposely toward their table. I feel everything hush around me except for her annoyingly high-pitched voice.

"…and the only reason why I know this is because Edward tells Jazz everything. And, I, being his girlfriend and all, know everything too. So, I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Because, like, you can be a bitch sometimes, but, you know that's okay--"

"Lauren," I cut in, because nobody deserves this shit, "your nipples are pointing in opposite directions."

While she gasps in embarrassment and actually looks down to inspect her chest, I sneakily plop an apple in front of Rosalie and catch Edward staring at me, his eyes intense and his mouth turned up in a crooked smile. I also catch a muffled snicker (Jasper) and a loud guffaw (Emmett) as I turn on my heel to leave.

I pretend I don't feel the heat of his gaze as I walk to my table on shaky legs, the tray clanking down as I expel a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I'm back where I belong.

* * *

**AN: ****Thanks to all the lovelies who reviewed and recommended me on The_Gazebo and other forums, your support has brightened my day. **

**Playlist for this chappie:**

**Another Lonely Day - Ben Harper**

**Get Free - The Vines**

**Hard to Explain - The Strokes**

**Believe - The Bravery**

**Pork and Beans - Weezer**

**Pressure - Paramore**

**Feel Good Drag - Anberlin**

**You're Gonna Go Far, Kid - The Offspring**

**I Will Possess Your Heart - Death Cab for Cutie**

**Rescued - Jack's Mannequin**

**Let Love In - The Goo Goo Dolls**

**So, yeah. Please let me know what you think. We got to see a little into both Bella and Rosalie this time around. **

**Thanks for reading, **

**F.**


	10. Jacob

**To sah0004 (duh), Mariana75, Uggy, sessahhh, and newbie20 for yer input and comments, and misforMarisa for making a fucktastic banner and for not laughing at my lack of photoshop skills. You all are uberawesome and this one here's for all those beautiful reviews. **

**No es mio. **

* * *

_Pick up your phone, Isabella. _

No.

_Please talk to me, I'm here for you. _

Liar.

_What's going on?_

Everything.

I stare at my phone, debating, knowing that Renee never communicated through text messages. Never. She said it took too long.

"Beeeelllllaaaa." Dear God.

I look up to see Alice waltzing toward me in a way-too-bright yellow dress. The mirrors shine all around me, blinding me from where I sit. The coarse material of the chair underneath my thighs itches.

"Would you please stop looking at your phone and pay attention?" She whines, swooshing her dress from side to side. Her forehead scrunched up like a little kid.

"Yeah. Sure. Sorry…" I mumble, just fucking _needing _someone.

"Hey," she starts, moving right in front of my face, leaning down so she can look me in the eye. "Is everything alright?"

And for one second, I want to tell her. I want to giggle and paint my nails and drool over hot boys with her. I want to talk about trivial, stupid things like what I'm going to be when I grow up or that I love the smell of rain or that Tyler (before he got weird) once told me he thought I was pretty.

I want us to get best friend bracelets and share milkshakes and make up our own stupid secret language.

And my phone dings from inside my jean pocket and I see Renee and then I see Edward and I just…can't.

"Everything is fine." I answer. "Fine." I say again, drawing out the word, feeling it leave my lips, letting it echo over and over again in my head.

Alice does this sort of nod/bob, and twists back, prancing around the cramped and empty fitting room. "What do you think?" She asks, looking not at me but at her dress, pursing her lips, blowing huge kisses to herself in the mirror.

Checking the screen of cell phone once again, I say, "It's…nice."

And I don't hear her say "I think so too" or "you're not even looking at me," because I'm too busy looking at Renee's words.

_Prove me wrong._

* * *

I'm watching the numbers get higher and higher as Alice chatters on, not even paying attention to the price of each item she's decided she can't live without. Leaning on the counter, somehow tired and drained from just observing Alice shopping, I stare at her sparkly fingernails as she smoothly hands over her credit card without blinking at the outrageous total.

She's still talking. I'm watching the cashier as he attempts to stifle a yawn but ultimately fails, praying Alice doesn't notice that I have yet to buy anything.

"…so then Lauren started talking about how you were a bitch and a huge fan of Taylor Swift, which is completely insane because you're Bella, and _what happened _because I told Lauren I don't even know what you're talking about because I know if something did happen, she would've told me and--"

"Wait. Jesus, wait. When you ask questions you're supposed to wait for an answer." I cut in because _god_, she's like a one man conversation. Or woman.

She jolts, almost as if she's surprised to hear my voice. Like she didn't even realize I was there in the first place. While she's completely distracted by my interruption, I notice that she doesn't even see the cashier trying to hand her three packed-out shopping bags. I reach out to grab her bags, when suddenly I see her tiny hand shove between them to stop my hand from making any contact. I turn and gape at her like an idiot because first of all, what is she doing and second of all, she's making me look like a freak in front of the cute, bored guy behind the counter.

And Alice is giving me one of those scary, determined looks that she always has when I do something wrong or forget to do something or even when I'm not doing anything. "Bella, where's all your stuff? How come you didn't get anything? Bella! You always do this, you need new clothes. I swear, your clothes always look like they're going to fall apart…"

I attempt to get the cashier on my side, mouthing a _help me_, hoping that he would be one of the good ones. Alice is still complaining about my clothes.

My eyes are pleading and I'm trying to just grab the damn bags and go when he says "you should maybe just try some things on," looking all sheepish and daring at the same time, his eyes full of mirth and understanding.

I gawk at him, begging him with my eyes. Alice clucks upon hearing this, pointing out that it's bad enough that the cashier, _the cashier,_ noticed my obvious lack of fashion and suggested that I try on clothes, no offense or anything.

"None taken," he says to Alice, shrugging his shoulders and adding, "I'm no fashion artist or anything, my mom owns this store. I'm just hired help."

His dark eyes meet mine. "You just…look like you could use some stuff that um…you know, fits and doesn't have holes."

I glance down at the stupid hole at the bottom of my ratty t-shirt.

I glare back up at him thinking, _well poo on you_, and stick my tongue out at him.

He laughs, moving from his stool behind the counter toward us, without breaking eye contact. "Come on, I'll hold your hand and make sure she doesn't suffocate you with clothes."

I harrumph at him and stalk to the back of the store, finding myself looking at scarves and weird, vintage fedoras and hats, trying to remember the last time I bought clothes for myself.

"Your friend's going ballistic, you know that right?"

I jump at the sound of his voice, scrambling to pull some 1920s-looking hat with flowers off a row of hooks and cram it on my head, scanning my surroundings for a mirror, desperate to be doing something.

"It's over here," he says pointing at a dusty, iron cast mirror, just barely peeking out between a mass of women accessories.

I'm fiddling with the stupid fucking hat, not knowing what to do with my hands because I'm just that awkward. _Christ. _

"I'm sorry," he says out of nowhere, sincerity flowing through his voice. His face appears in the mirror, dark eyes concerned and so…there.

His presence just fills me with a sense of belonging. Comfort.

"I'm Bella." I say, not looking at him and his spiked jet black hair, his pierced lip and tan skin.

He chuckles, soft and genuine. "I'm Jacob."

"Bella, get your skinny little butt in this fitting room, right now!" I hear from somewhere far, far away.

"Alice, I forgot to tell you, I'm broke!" I shout back because I'm feeling light and generous all of a sudden.

"Oh very funny young lady, like you've never pulled _that _one before!"

I'm laughing like a little girl before I can stop myself. I hear Jacob chuckling that cute little laugh behind me and just…

Yes.

Slowly, our snickering weaves into peaceful silence and I'm looking up at the mirror and my eyes are all crinkled and so are his and "it's okay" he's murmuring, like he's sharing a secret meant only for me.

I finally turn around to face him, turning around so I can see him completely, my eyes questioning because what's up with all this Qui-Gon shit lately?

_Maybe it happens with all that coming of fucking age shit. _

"It's okay…not knowing," he starts, his black eyes straightforward and honest, searing into me. "I mean, people live and think they know what they're doing, think they know what life's all about and pretend they're happy with that."

He stops, stepping closer, leaning in, almost whispering except the tenor of his voice is still deep, still strong. "But the truth is, being confused and lost and searching just means that you're _human_. That this world is a big question mark that has no answers at all, and that proclaiming you do have them makes you a fraud. Because those answers aren't answers at all, they're feelings and inclinations and desires that come from inside you. You have to _let _yourself find them."

_Yes. _

His hands come up and carefully take off the hat, freeing my hair to go in all directions and I don't even have to say anything back.

"Your friend's waiting." He absentmindedly tugs the hole in my shirt, his fingers sure and his eyes soothing and right.

He reaches down to grasp my hand, warm and steady, and leads me through the disarray of racks and fabric, to where Alice is categorizing the garments she's chosen for my impending torture.

And I let him.

I'm trying on this stupid pink dress that screams _slut _and I can't figure out where to put my arms and I push open the door, frustrated and "what the fuck is this, Alice?"

Alice jumps up from her perch, her eyes looking me up and down, critical and scrutinizing. I ignore Jacob's general direction because I'm afraid he's going to disappear.

"Bella, are you losing weight?" She screeches.

"What?" I ask, scared to look in the mirror.

"I thought for sure that dress would fit, I have a sixth sense for these things, you know that. But that dress, pink looks amazing on you, but it's like…falling off…" Her sentence just sort of hangs there, the air in the fitting room suddenly stifling.

I have to fix this before…

"Hell Alice, I haven't tried on clothes with you in along time, calm down--"and it's too late.

"Bella, are you stressed out about graduation? Or college? Is it your mom or Charlie? What is it? Are you eating regularly because I'm sorry but I haven't been paying enough attention. I'm sorry I haven't been the greatest of friends but seriously, bulimia is not the answer and you just can't let yourself--"

I want the ground to just swallow me whole. "Fuck, Alice. No, I'm not doing any of those things. Please, just stop, will you?" I cross my arms self-consciously because Jacob is still there, watching this whole scene play out, and I really want to slap my hand over her mouth to just shut her the fuck up.

I'm horrified when Alice's eyes narrow. "Isabella Marie Swan, did your _boobs _get bigger?"

Fucking hell.

"Shit, Alice, just stop fucking _talking, _right now." I'm pissed and I'm embarrassed and I think Alice might have finally gotten it because her eyes widen into huge saucers.

_Fucking finally, _I'm thinking and someone's chortling with huge, deep belly laughs.

He's laughing at me. I'm mortified out of my mind and standing there practically naked in some pink scraps, my friend hurling stupid accusations at me and it's…perfect.

I can't stop myself from looking at him, from smiling at him as soon as I see those huge dimples, those crinkled dark eyes.

"You swear too much, Bellsa." His eyes not even moving down to the area Alice, my _friend_, is now ogling. Just smiling and gazing at my face.

"It's Bella." I say, my lips twitching with efforts of holding in my smile because who smiles when they've been completely and utterly humiliated?

"Alice, why don't you go get some clothes in a smaller size?" He says calmly and thankfully she leaves silently to go get more ammunition.

He waits until she's gone to speak again.

"That dress…is hideous."

I flip him off behind my head as I walk back into my changing room, giggling and maybe adding a hint of swagger and shake as I do it.

But he probably can't see it because this dress is too damn loose. After locking the door, I pull down the dress, stepping out of it, and stare at my body in the mirror.

I run my fingers over my collar bone, trying not to think of the others fingers that touched me there. I trace my belly button and place my fingers along my hip bones, trying to remember them being this prominent.

I look up at my face. It looks the same as it always has. Same loose, thick brown hair hanging around my face, same too-dark eyes, too big for my face. Same wide, pale cheekbones, same disproportionate lips, the bottom jutting out more than the top.

Nothing has changed. I wonder if that face in the mirror will ever develop, ever mature enough for me to notice. For me to feel…I don't know…older and fully capable of making right decisions.

I wonder if it is only the reality of death and aging that makes you become an adult. The only motivation to live is the inescapable grip of death that hangs about us from the minute we're born. Yet we spend our whole lives pretending we're never going to die.

That we're immortal.

* * *

I'm finally walking out of the hole-in-the-wall vintage shop, tapping my feet and swinging my bags on the steps outside as I wait for Jacob to lock up. Alice, smart girl, is already skipping towards her car, humming some song about havin' a feeling.

The sky was open and the air crisp, white dots glittering against a vast array of endless black.

" 'Maybe that's what life is...a wink of the eye and winking stars.' " I whisper under my breath.

I hear Jacob hum appreciatively and I don't have to ask if he knows who said it or if he even understands how important this moment is because I just know.

I know that he knows, that he gets it and that we don't need words and confirmation and all that other shit that people worry about.

It wasn't hot burning and butterflies and twisted manipulation and dirty games and sex.

It was true and bare and glowing camaraderie and united fronts and snorting behind hands and rolling eyes simultaneously and not giving a fuck, together.

He's standing next to me and we're gazing up at the starry night and it's lovely.

"I would ask for your number," he says still staring up at the sky, hands in pockets, releasing a puff of breath, "but I know we'll be seeing each other again."

I turn to him, fighting a smile but not really.

"Plus, Bellsa, where's the fun in that?" He asks not really asking at all, brushing some hair behind my ear so quickly I don't even feel it, just a flash of warmth, before he's walking away, whistling some jazz tune that echoes back to me, sounding eerie and lonely on the empty street.

"Where's the fun indeed," I mutter to myself, reaching up to touch the smile that's still gracing my lips and slowly walk to Alice's car, stepping on some cracks and jumping over others.

Because fate and luck and chance is for the fuckers who actually believe it. You have to play both sides, risking and not caring and feeling the burn but accepting it because…hell that was just life.

And getting burned and played and finding truth and beauty enlivens you, causing you to feel pain and hurt and wonder and pleasure and the cut and edge of reality.

But you have to want _all _of it.

* * *

**Alright, so I owe y'all an apology. I most definitely did not plan on having Jacob in this here story. As I've told some of you, this story is sort of taking control here, weaving in its character of its own volition. So, meh. I hope you like it. I just wanted you to know that it's okay if you feel like these chapters are all kinds of random. 'Cuz you bet your sweet little asses they are. **

**But high school was a huge clusterfuck of random, wasn't it?**

**And this Bella, as you may have noticed, is a very random, abstract, strange little girl. **

**Can I say random one more time?**

**Anyhoo, your reviews are golden drops of awesomeness that make me smile like an idiot. **

**Background Music:**

**That's What You Get -- Paramore**

**Good Grief -- Foo Fighters**

**The Pretender -- Foo Fighters**

**Hurt -- Nine Inch Nails**

**Nobody Knows Me At All -- The Weepies**

**Use Somebody -- Kings of Leon**

**Oh, and quote was courtesy of the one and only effin Jack Kerouac. **

**Hit that button, my lovelies. Make my day. **

**Please?**


	11. Revelations

**I own a stupid fucking paper due in two days, a shitty printer and a red bull. Not Twilight. **

**Thanks for all the reviews, guys. I'm so overwhelmed by the support, it is very much needed. So thank you. And dear sah0004, I have no words. This chapter would not be here if it wasn't for you. Y'all betta recognize. This one's for you chickadee. **

**Also, I just noticed. Viewing it in 3/4ths, that li'l button up thar, makes this look a whole lot nicer. **

**Meh, s'up to you. **

* * *

"Bella. BELLA."

My eyes flash open and I'm immediately blinded by the fluorescent lights of Alice's bathroom. Her face slowly materializes in front of me.

"I can't believe you fell asleep. Oh well, I'm done anyways. Here, have a look see." She moves so I can get a full reflection of myself in her mirror.

After the white spots in my vision fade, I'm able to see my face. "Jesus, Alice. I look like a punk rocker on fucking steroids." I say. If I was going for the fuck-with-me-and-I-will-eat-you-for-breakfast look, well. I sure owned it.

"But you're not--"

"Never mind, Alice." I interrupt, smearing some eye shadow to make it more crackwhorish than emopsycho.

"Hmph, well I think it matches your personality," she sneers and fuck me if it's not hilarious.

"Nice one, tiger." I compliment.

Alice beams like I've just told her she's won the Pulitzer Prize. "Go do something with your hair and get your dress on and for the love of all that is holy, don't wear those damn high-tops."

I don't respond because she can't tell me what to do. If I look like friggin' Joan Jett, I may as well act like her. I grab a hair tie off my wrist, wriggle into my fancy black dress and hop on each leg as I put one foot in each chuck. I gather all my hair up, smooshing it together and slapping the hair tie in their somewhere to keep every strand up, and lace my shoes. Ta-da.

That is how I get ready.

I go back into the cave of wonders to see how Alice is faring, looking warily at the countertop full of makeup, making sure they didn't somehow come alive and attack. I take a seat on the toilet and anticipate her dishing.

She looks at me from the corner of her eye while applying mascara. "Ooh, Bella, nice sexy messy bun. I like it. It says, I'm refined and untouchable but I also have a wild side and know how to have a good time."

"You know, funny thing. That was _exactly _the look I was going for." I respond, hiding my shoes before she can see them.

I pause, waiting. And now.

"So, Bella, what was up with you and that Jacob guy? I was definitely sensing a connection. You were quiet the entire way home, smiling like an idiot, don't think I didn't notice."

I motion my index finger, spinning it in a circle, gesturing for her to move on because, no. I did not want to talk about him right now. He was someone who didn't need to be analyzed, gossiped about--all blushing cheeks and screaming and _ohmygodnoways_.

Her frustration comes out in an exaggerated sigh but she moves on. "Okay, listen. Lauren came up to me randomly after school one day just like all cheery and shit, like nothing had ever happened between us, chattering on about how much we needed to hang out again and _oh remember, when we used to get coffee during second period?_" Alice had switched to her nasally voice, "And I'm just like standing there like an idiot, because she hasn't talked, much less _looked _at us in what, two months?"

I insert an "uh-huh" to keep up her stamina.

She takes a breath, wrapping a short strand of hair around the end of a curling iron. "And like, she's all, what's going on with Bella? And I'm just speechless because, _what the hell_? And you know Lauren, always the talker, she doesn't even wait for an answer…god, I hated that about her."

I bite my knuckle, swallowing back a snort.

"So she told me about your stunt in the cafeteria and I'm still hurt you didn't tell me about that. But she went on to say that you turned out to be a major bitch and I was so shocked I didn't even know what to say. And then she's starts saying all this shit about warning you to watch your back and that you have no idea who you were messing with and then she's pulling me into a hug--I almost passed out from her perfume--and she's waving at me telling me we should do lunch sometime like she's the fucking first lady or something."

I'm staring at the red marks of my teeth and lipstick as my ears make out the faint chords of _You Belong With Me _coming from Alice's speakers and marvel at the irony of it all. "You shoulda told her to mind her own fucking business."

"Well, Bella, I'm sorry but her question kind of threw me for a loop because I _don't _know what's going on with you. You're different." She shakes her head pitifully at me, like a mother watching the neighbor's kid roll around in mud. _Poor thing. Not a single good deed I can do because the parents won't rear their children correctly. _

Pah. "Whatever, Alice. We're all different. It's like telling me my hair's longer. How do you know I'm really different anyways? Maybe this is how I've been all along and you just didn't know it. Maybe I have two sides, one good and one evil. Maybe--"

"This," Alice says, pointing her lipstick at me, "is exactly what I'm talking about. You're just so…crazy sometimes."

I stare at the shiny pink that's only on her bottom lip. "The whole damn world is crazy, Alice."

And she doesn't say anything for a long, long time, the clicking of cosmetics and tapping on counters the only sound in that too-big, echoing bathroom.

When she's finished, she turns to me, looking at my shoes and opening her mouth. "Just…tell me everything's okay in there," she says, still staring at my shoes. "I worry about you Bells."

"I'm fine."

And she releases her breath in an annoyed sort of way, hurriedly cleaning up the mess she's made of the counter. "You always say that. I just don't believe you."

She's walking out of the bathroom, shutting off the lights, holding her hand out behind her to let me know she hasn't forgotten me when my lips are parting and my voice is straining to get through.

"Do you ever just wish…there was something more? Wonder if there's something--some concept, some secret--that you're missing?"

She stops, her hand poised over the doorknob, her back still turned, because she can't face it either.

"Every goddamn day."

* * *

I hate dances. I really, really hate them.

But Charlie thought it would be a good idea…so I went.

I don't think he's smiled in…I don't know how long. The point is that I've forgotten what it looks like.

I hear the pumping bass of some rap song I don't know the name of from the parking lot and I have to roll my eyes. We're walking down the halls to our gym, oh so classy I know, Alice and Jessica and Angela fussing with their hair. Ben and Mike and Eric take up behind us cracking stupid jokes and asking each other if they have a lighter even though we all know they'd have to nothing to light anyways.

We're waiting to get in and I can already smell sweat and dancing bodies and I really don't know how long I'm going to last.

I could shoot myself for not driving. Oh well, least we already missed the first hour. Alice wanted to be fashionably late. Not that anyone cared when we arrived anyway.

We all walk in and Alice's favorite song comes on and she starts screaming and grabbing everybody's hand, pulling them to the dance floor and yelling "I love this song!"

Every song they play at dances is Alice's favorite, I swear to God.

I slowly back away, miming _I have to pee _to anyone that's paying attention and beeline it to the punch. I hope someone's spiked that shit already 'cuz this night's already wearing me out.

Ladling some refreshment into a plastic cup, I notice someone come up beside me and I step back to let them have their turn. I sip thoughtfully, watching the flashing lights and the moving masses and scanning for the chaperones.

"Hey."

I glance sideways and it's Jasper, hair wet and mirroring my stance, gazing out at the crowd of twirling bodies. I nod and take another sip.

I don't believe he's ever said hi to me, and now he's acting like we go way back. I think we stand there, facing the middle of the gym, for at least five minutes before he finally speaks.

"Lauren says we should fuck you over." He says, not looking at me but straight ahead.

I don't have to ask who 'we' is and I don't have to respond to this statement, but it doesn't surprise me.

His voice is low and deep and it doesn't even look like we're having a conversation, just two people drinking punch, watching other people. "Rosalie told her to get over it, that it didn't matter, what you said. Edward stared at Rosalie. Emmett stared at Lauren's tits like he was solving a stupid fucking math problem."

In my peripheral, I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he finishes the rest of his drink. "And then I got high."

"Mmm." I answer. I don't even know if he hears me.

"And while I was riding that wave, I thought to myself," he says, all husky and mysterious, drawing every syllable out, "mighty peculiar thing, that. I don't quite know what to make of it."

My cup noisily crinkles in my hand. I stare down at it stupidly, noting the fierce grip of my fingers around the red plastic.

I look up to find him gone, without so much as a magic whoosh or abracadabra.

When the punch starts tasting like straight sugar, I search my surroundings for the nearest trash can. And I spin to look behind me when my arm whams straight into someone, spilling the contents of my cup all over them. Or her.

And it's on my tongue to apologize and run for some napkins when I realize it's Lauren, and I'm trying really hard not to laugh at the reddish pink stain that's dripping all across the front of her white dress.

Lauren can't decide whether or not to stare down at her dress or glare at me.

"You bitch!"

_Here we go. _

"You did that on purpose, you whore!"

"Just chill the fuck out, okay? I bumped into you _on accident_." I finally retort, fighting to remain calm despite the fact that she's inching closer, screeching at me.

"Well, why don't you tell me what the _hell _is going on between you and my boyfriend?" She says, not even hearing me.

_The fuck? _"Lauren, I have no idea what you're talking about. There is nothing going on between us. Look, I'm sorry about your dress, I'm just a magnet for disaster and you happened to get in the way. Now. Are we done here?"

I think I've made her angry by the way she's turning red and blubbering at me. Damn. I was sort of hoping that would be the end of this little causerie.

Next thing I know, she's right up in my face, whispering fiercely, while I stand there blinking against the onslaught of spit and hot breath. "Oh Bella, if you think I'm going to fall for your concerned, innocent little girl act then you're more stupid than I thought. I know what you're trying to do you little slut, weaseling your way in so you can get all the dirt, hoping to somehow gain popularity by taking advantage of the people you _pretend _to care about. I see you for what you are and let me tell you Bella, no one wants a snobby loner with a fucked up agenda around. So why don't you take your sorry little ass back to the dark hole you came from, back to your mommy."

I flinch, feeling that last word like a slap to the face. And I realize she wasn't whispering anymore. No. Her words had become loud, ringing in my ears.

She stops, tapping her chin thoughtfully, mocking me. "Oh wait, that's right. You have no mommy. She doesn't want you. She left you here to rot because she knew that nobody could ever love someone like you. Because you're a dumb, unwanted whore, just like she was."

Music and noises and background goes out around me, I vaguely register Jasper's restraining hand pulling Lauren back, the hush of a crowd I didn't know was there, but it's in slow motion and all I can see is Lauren's shiny lips mouthing _poor, poor Bella_ over and over again. Haunting me.

She's pushing off Jasper's hands as he tries to tell her to calm down while she looks haughtily at me, daring me to respond, to pretend like she hadn't wounded me.

My chest tightens and my breath comes short and Rosalie is stepping up to her side, placing a hand underneath her elbow, softly telling her "that's enough, Lo."

_No._

It's not enough.

This isn't over.

My fist curls in anticipation because she deserves it and she doesn't know shit and she doesn't have power over me. I'm so close to my target, moving steadily forward, needing this more than anything else. Everyone's moving out of my way, unsure of what to do, unsure of how I'll respond. My knuckles are tight and my nails are biting into the skin of my palm and I just want to show her pain.

I want her to see, even if it's just a little bit, a quick sneak-peek of what it's like to be me. To see the world through twisted, tinted eyes.

To feel aching and longing and the inability to escape. The sharp, wretched stabbing of fear and not knowing and loneliness.

_Poor, poor Bella. _

To run and run without knowing where to go, the past and darkness and monsters nipping at your heels, each breath a gasp resonant of death, the last intake of oxygen this world will provide.

It's there and her face is waiting, sinister and taunting, and I want to watch the array of emotions splay across her face when she realizes my intent.

I feel a hand quickly snag around my waist and I'm pulled back by the force of it because my body hasn't registered that something's prohibiting me from retaliating. That I'm being held back. And before I can struggle out of the iron grip and get to Lauren's face, a familiar, soft voice is ringing in my ear.

"Stop it." He commands me, too smooth and too strong. I still continue to fight it, fight him, because he can't stop me. And I don't want to stop myself.

"You're better than this, Bella," he says again, his voice velvet and close and tickling the side of my neck. I don't want to think about him, to think about his arm around me, about how his presence and voice is right here.

Here.

With me.

Helping me.

Saving me?

"I can't." I cry, breaking and still pushing forward because her voice is terrorizing me, repeating my name over and over in my head. "Fuck off, Edward." _Bellaaaa. Beeeeelllllllaaaaa. _

_I want this. _

"No, Bella. Snap out of it, you're letting her get to you. Don't sink to her level. That's exactly what she wants. She's jealous, she's insecure and she's just snapping out at you." He continues, tightening his arm and I can feel the muscle in his forearm clench against my stomach.

I want to scream and hit and see her nose bleed and her mouth stop moving.

"Just let it go. Bella, listen to me. Let it go." He's talking quieter, feeling the slack of my arms, the slump of my shoulders and he knows that I'm listening.

I just don't know what's right anymore.

"Okay?" He asks, not waiting for me to nod in acquiescence before removing his arm, freeing me from his restraint.

I'm cold from the absence of his touch and this is most definitely not over. Taking a step forward while flinging a hand over my shoulder, signaling to Edward that I'm fine, I'm in control, I finish this.

I don't point my finger in her face or hunch over her like a raging bitch or flip my hair back and punch her in the throat, like I want to. I stand right in front of her, full of righteous fury, hands tight at my sides.

"You can taunt me and talk shit behind my back however much you want, for whatever reason, because I really don't give a flying fuck how you waste your life, but don't think for a second that you can go and insult my _mother_. Because you don't know shit about her, about me, about my life." I take a breath to calm myself, pitching my voice low and menacing, because this is personal. "And if I ever hear anything come out of your filthy mouth in regards to her, I will not hesitate to _fuck you up_." My threat hangs in the air, suspended, and is it so wrong that I take pleasure in the terrified look in Lauren's eyes?

Before I turn into a monster right there in my school gym, I turn and walk away, parting the crowd, trying to recall the general direction of the bathroom.

That awful juice is forcing itself back up to the edge of throat and I'm swallowing it back and I'm running to get to a toilet.

Colors and faces and music swirls all around me as I push open a door that looks like it has a bathroom sign.

And while I cringe at the awful noises of indigestion and choking and the spurting of liquids bouncing off the walls of the restroom stall, I can't help but thank my body for ridding itself of the damn stuff.

Sometimes you just have to get it out of you. The toxins. It's painful and disgusting and it makes you break out in a sweat, but you have to make yourself.

Let go.

Let yourself be cleansed and eradicate that horrible concoction that boils from the bottom of your gut, making you sick and slowing you down.

I check to ensure my mouth is clean, rinsing and gurgling and spitting. My mouth feels dirty but my body feels lighter, healthier.

I venture back to the gym wondering how easy it will be to get Alice and get out with no one noticing. The breeze cools the flush of my face, the sweat gathering in tiny droplets along my forehead. I welcome the shiver that runs down my spine, chilling the overheated skin. The school halls I know so well look ominous and eerie in the darkness of night. The distinct smell of cigarette smoke creeps over me as I walk down the spooky hall, the sound of my footsteps pounding off the lockers on my right.

I see the orange glow of his cigarette before I see him. And even when I do make out his face, his body, he remains shrouded in darkness, the shadows playing off his eyes, the moon and ember illuminating the lines of his face, the sharp curve of his jaw, the deep auburn of his pushed up hair.

It breaks my heart that I think he looks devastatingly, wicked sexy.

I try to remember why I want to go back to the dance in the first place.

I really need to keep walking, to act like I don't notice him, that the sound of his voice doesn't make my heart beat faster and my hands shake.

"You shouldn't have had any punch," he says and that's all it takes for me to remember the kiss, the way his lips felt against mine.

I'm shocked that he even started this conversation and I think it shows. He takes a drag from his cig, then exhales, blowing the smoke away from me. He looks tired and his damn white collared shirt looks too stiff and too wrinkled and I want to feel it beneath my hands. And fuck me, the first two buttons are undone.

I swallow back nothing, just dry saliva. I can't turn towards him, I want to be ready to flee if I have to. I'm done being insulted and backstabbed and judged. My eyes follow the length of his extended arm, noting the folded up sleeves, the stark paleness of his forearm, the long fingers tapping against his cigarette. My hands clench in front of me, teeth gnawing my bottom lip, feet glued into place and my body aching to face him as I tilt my head to the side, gazing at a rusty lock, when everything in me is screaming just to fucking look at him.

"I knew…what you were thinking." The corner of his mouth quirks up in fondness, as if remembering, but he's not smiling. "You get this look on your face. I knew, because I've seen it before."

He drags the cig across his lips before inhaling again. I'm mesmerized.

"Lauren is a selfish child. Do me a favor and just ignore the bitch." He finally says, shifting the cig to the side of his mouth.

"Well, if you hadn't…if she hadn't been… and fucking Jasper--" I manage to growl/stutter/look like a retard.

"Jasper?" He asks and he's shoving off the wall, moving to face me, bending down so his eyes can see mine, that damn cigarette still hanging loosely between his elegant fingers. I'm freaking out because _shit_, I did not mean to say all that and he's looking all serious and intense and hell.

"The fuck does Jasper have to do with this?" He looks peeved, to say the least.

_Uh. Help. _

"Well…for one thing, if he wasn't _with _her she wouldn't have the balls to be such a raging cunt…" I answer, attempting to deflect the question.

He sort of shakes his head side to side, still scrutinizing my face. "And for another?"

"Huh?"

I feel his hand cup my chin, his cold fingers overlapping and pressing against the side of my too warm cheek, forcing me to look him in the eye. "There was a second part to that statement, Bella."

"I…uh…no…I was just saying that…" Comprehension flickered behind his shining, dark eyes.

"He did something that ticked Lauren off. I get it now." His gaze pierced through me. "What did he say to you?"

"Look, it was fine. He just, you know, warned me that she was out for blood. He…" I stopped.

"He…what?" Edward whispered, smoke curling up around us.

"Nothing. He just wanted me to know that he didn't necessarily agree with her."

He raised an eyebrow and sucked in his top lip, but his eyes remained concentrated on some far off thought, focused. He muttered something about Jasper's dick and motherfucking charm and the smug bastard.

"Why did you stop me?" I ask, because really, _why_?

He chuckled nervously, humorlessly. "You know, I was asking myself the same question."

I look at him expectantly, tapping my foot.

"Hell, I don't know. You're just…" He ran his hand through his hair, aggressively tugging on the ends. "Fuck, Bella, you're just different and Lauren is a dumb idiot who isn't worth your time. Or anger."

He sighs deeply, an exhausted sigh, putting out his cigarette and smashing it with his shoe. "She'll get hers, but I just couldn't watch you…what she said…it would've made everything worse. Especially with the entire school there."

"What the fuck do you know, Edward?" I say, because I can't stand to know that he heard every word that came out of Lauren's mouth. "Next time just stay out of my way."

"Next time?" He scoffs and he's gone and that hesitant little boy look is replaced with indifference and damn me because I know exactly why I said that. "What makes you think there's going to _be _a next time?"

I wanted him to fucking say it. I wanted him to tell me I was wrong and tell me why he really stopped me and just fucking tell me _the truth_.

"No, you jerk off, I meant just stay the fuck away from me."

_Say it. _

"Don't flatter yourself, Bella. Just because I got involved once--"

"--and kissed me--" _Say it. _

"and saved you from a whole shitload of trouble--"

"--and bought me coffee--" _Say it._

"doesn't mean that I care about what you do. You're welcome for saving your ass tonight. Let's just call it even and what's done is done. We'll go our separate ways."

_Tell me you feel something too. _

He holds out his hand like I'm a goddamn negotiator from the UN. Or whatever.

"Oh, please. Don't pull your arrogant bullshit on me. I can punch whoever the fuck I want." I say, backing away. "Let me know when you're tired of playing charades, Edward. I have to go."

I turn to continue walking on my merry way when I feel his hand clamp down on my wrist. "Wait. Just wait a goddamn minute. There's something I wanted to say but you kept interrupting me and you're so unpredictable and crazy…it's so difficult to just fucking tell you…because you look at me and I can't…"

"What?" I ask impatiently, tugging on my hand even though I never want him to let me go.

"I--"

"Edward, are you out here?" A voice calls out, interrupting him and us and it sounds way too eerily similar to the one person…

_Oh fuck, _I'm thinking and she's already right in front of us, taking us in, before Edward can fucking drop my hand.

* * *

**A/N: Muahahahaha. Teasers, anyone? Well, you know the drill. Oh, and if you want one, you have to tell me so…some people don't want to be spoiled. **

**Before you hit that button (but please don't forget to hit that there button) please go listen to Strange and Beautiful by Aqualung. Please. And maybe read the chapter over again while listening. It's still on repeat for me. It's just…perfect. **

**Again, thank you for all the love and pimpin'. You guys are amazing. Your feedback inspires me. Thanks for reading!**

**Please someone tell me they caught the meaning of the song mentioned during this chappie. Heh. **


	12. Truth

**Thank you everyone for your support and reviews. Each one brought a smile to my face. You guys are all so fucking amazing. Sorry this took so long, there's this thing called life. Yeah, turns out its pretty time consuming. **

**Thanks also must go to my love, sah0004, because she's kickass and swamped with school work, just like me. **

**I wish I owned Edward. **

* * *

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god. _

I can't think. I can't breathe. I don't know how to process, how to justify or explain or speak the words she needs to hear.

I don't know what I want. I'm gazing upon the face of someone, _something_ meaningful, and yet there's still something holding me back, chains that I have yet to identify. There's a lingering voice that needs me to understand, that needs me to know without a doubt what I should do, but I just can't. I don't.

She's there and she's looking at me and I don't even know what to say because she doesn't know and I don't know and how the fuck does anyone ever just _know?_

When does life become clear, crystal and detailed and straightforward?

When will I see the world in focus, not blurred or misshapen or warped?

I can't look at Edward, but I know he's here, auburn hair wild and green eyes half crinkled in that stupid, snobby way. I know he hasn't shaved the shadow of dark hair along his jaw and that he'd much rather be having another cig (even though it's bad for his lungs) and that his foot is tapping against the cement because he doesn't know how to stay still.

I know that I want him to finish what he was saying and that a part of me is really fucking terrified that he just might have, if she hadn't barged in.

It wasn't about him. In the beginning. It was about high school. It was waiting in line, wondering when fate would call your number and something would just fucking _happen_. It was about enigma and compassion and not understanding and wanting to and being drawn to someone because you could feel that they were going to change you.

Or that you would change them.

And 'them' wasn't _supposed_ to be fucking Edward Cullen.

Now look at me.

What the hell are you supposed to do in these kinds of situations? The ones where you want to deny what it may look like, because it isn't, even though you really fucking want it be, but really don't, because that would make you an awful person?

Yeah. I'm pretty sure I was the only one on earth who ever got caught in _these_ kinds of situations.

There always seems to be too many questions…and nobody ever seems to have an answer.

My mouth is open because I want to say something but nothing comes out and I can't think with Edward's stupid hand still gripping my wrist.

"Fucking _let go_," I whisper murderously under my breath. I want to think I imagined the tightening of his fingers upon hearing my command.

Rosalie's walking slowly toward us, her look of shock morphing into one of confusion and contemplation. Her forehead is all crinkly and I think she's trying hard not to look hurt but I know better. I know better because I saw that quick second when her bottom lip quivered and her eyes blinked too rapidly before she lifted her eyebrows and shook it off.

I realized then and there that I had to pee. Like, really fucking pee.

God help me.

She stops three steps away from us, her eyes looking from Edward to his goddamn fingers still attached to my arm and back to him. "Edward, you can let go now."

Her voice is calm, almost playful. "I get it. You don't have to resort to _this, _to prove a point."

Feeling intrusive, I unsuccessfully tried to yank my hand away from him. It hurts me more than it does him. My elbow throbs. He doesn't seem to notice.

"Oh Rosalie, cut the—"

"No, Edward. Stop…don't give me that, not now. We never agreed to anything, we just decided to move on." Her eyes were clear, fierce. Her cheeks were red and her pale, sunken face looked alive and beautiful.

He sounded irritated and angry and not at all defensive in the face of her strength. I just gaped at him.

"Jesus, Rosalie. I never accepted it, I accepted the fact that I didn't give a shit and that it didn't even fucking matter. But you think that somehow, now that I'm the one who's here, in this position…that I'm in the wrong?" Edward said with an intensity of his own.

Rosalie's eyes darted to mine, looking like she would've much rather preferred I not be present, the weird girl who just stared open-mouthed and idiotic.

"Fuck. You're such a _hypocrite. _You go all bat-shit crazy, giving up and breaking the rules, and you expect me to…what? Pretend like nothing happened? Like I don't have a fucking life of my own?"

She was losing her spark—her pallor whitening, her frail shoulders shrinking.

"Well guess what, Rosalie? I'm fucking trapped too."

And Edward would not fucking _let go. _

Rosalie was gazing down at his fingers and Edward was looking over her head and I was just asking myself what the fuck I was doing here.

"Edward, it's fine." I'm saying because I feel so out of place, because I'm not supposed to be here at all. "Just go."

Rosalie's head suddenly snaps up, her eyes scrunching down at me, realizing that I'm a part of this too. Accusing me of…god only knows. "You."

"Me." I shake off Edward's hand and it finally falls away, his hold no longer strong and unbreakable.

"Rosalie." He says her name in a released breath, sounding weary and fed up.

But Rosalie's only got eyes for me. She doesn't get any closer and it's even worse because I can feel the heat of her gaze from where I stand. "This explains everything. It all makes _so_ much sense now."

"What are you talking about?" I brilliantly respond, before it hits me. Shit. "Rosalie, no, this had nothing—"

"I don't want to hear it, Bella. And I just…don't want to hear it. I'm so tired of everything and you're just…like everyone else." She says, looking away, looking adrift and distant. "I'm going, Edward."

I watch in horror as she walks away, her blue dress swinging too loosely from hip to hip, the clingy material seemingly left with nothing to cling to.

_Fuck. FUCK. _

"You're telling me," Edward mutters, staring at her retreating form. "She is gonna be such a pain in the ass tonight."

I turn incredulously to him, wondering when my brain had stopped controlling the flow of thoughts that came out of my mouth. "This is not a joke. This is serious. I wasn't trying…"

"Yeah well," he says, running a hand through his tangled hair, still looking down the hall and not letting me finish a sentence I didn't know how to finish, "sometimes you have to make life one big fucking joke, Bella."

He pauses, contemplating his own train of thought. "It could end up being the only thing that keeps you sane."

His chuckle comes out in a whisper, a shared secret of humor that wasn't really funny at all. It was just sad.

I stood there, gaping again, as I watched him walk away, following Rosalie's exit, whistling and pulling out another cigarette.

* * *

I'm still breathing in the remnants of his smoke, his scent, when Alice is suddenly in front of me. My hand slams back up against the lockers in my shock and "Alice, what the fuck did I tell you about appearing out of nowhere?"

"Bella, I've been calling your name for forever, everyone's looking for you…" she stops. "What is that smell?" Her voice is cutting through my haze and she's making a great show of sniffing the air.

_That's the smell of carnage, Alice. The smell of misunderstanding and answers that are just too damn late. _

_That's the smell of promise, distorted by life and confusion and all the shit in between. _

I'm sucking in huge gulps of it, wanting to feel it in my throat and lungs and never wanting to let it go.

"For forever…" I mumble to myself, testing it on my tongue.

Alice is looking at me again, and it's _that _look. "I'm sorry."

"Don't give me your pity, Alice." I say, walking away. "You know better."

Give me fury, give me hatred, give me pride—but don't ever give me pity. Pity is for suckers who actually care what people think. Pity is for people who think that all those sad stares, all those puppy dog eyes, all those grim frowns and dimpled chins meant that somehow those strangers understood. Like having the ability to feel sorry for someone meant that they could now level with you, that they could feel what you'd been through, that they could have the _right_ to sympathize with you.

Because all they could do was say how sorry they were. And that didn't establish a common ground of sorrow and pain and rejection.

And when did sorry ever bring people back?

When did _sorry_ ever fix things?

That sad, pitiful look haunted me. It followed me wherever I went—to the grocery store, to school, to Charlie's work—even when my mom didn't want to.

It was those looks, those words, those glances, that made me miss Renee. That made me wish I could have begged her to stay—could have pleaded with her to tuck me into bed or warn me that getting my period didn't mean I was dying or tell me about male sperm while I laughed in embarrassment or remind me to act like a lady—just to make those looks go away. She didn't even have to be my real mom.

She could just pretend, like everyone else did.

I learned at an early age that sorry didn't do anything, even when screamed against my wet pillow, my voice hoarse and choked with tears. Saying it over and over again to the night, even though I knew it would wake up the monsters under my bed, changed nothing.

I was still that scared, disillusioned little girl who hissed _sorry_ bitterly—sardonically—knowing no one would ever hear it.

"Bella." Her voice ricocheted off the wall, my name bouncing off of space.

I stopped walking.

"Can you please…just talk to me?"

I reach out my hand to spin one of the locks on a locker next to me. Feeling the cold metal, twisting the nob, twisting, twisting around and around. I couldn't say anything.

I could feel her growing impatient. "Bella, what did _Jasper_ have to say to you?"

My fingers still, the rust and metal still burning cold against my red fingertips.

"I want to go home." I say, but I know she doesn't care.

* * *

I'm untying my shoes and sitting on my bed and pulling out my hair tie when I hear a knock on my bedroom door.

"Come in."

I look up to see Charlie, leaning on the door frame, awkwardly trying to seem comfortable and at ease peering into my room.

There's a pause so long I have to blow the hair off my forehead just to hear a sound, any sound.

"How'd it go tonight?" He asks gruffly, gazing at my pitch-black window.

"Well…it was positively awful."

He smiles that cute little smile he has, the corners of his eyes crinkling and making him look like Santa Claus.

It makes me happy. "I'm guessing the whole socially awkward thing runs in the family," I say jokingly but realize what a terrible joke it is only after it leaves my mouth. I'm horrified.

"Aw, Bells. Didn't they ever tell you that the socially awkward ones have the most fun?" He waggles his eyebrows up and down and I'm laughing because he should never, ever do that again. At least in public.

My stomach's hurting and I hear Charlie's loud snorts and I hear my belly laughs and this.

This is why I can deal with the _I'm sorrys_ and the pity and just…all of it.

Because yes life is hell and growing up is downright terrifying and finding an identity means leaving normal behind and doing what feels right.

But the real hell is not knowing where you belong. Not knowing truth from lies and facades and the lure of being someone else. Somewhere, buried deep inside or lying hidden around you, are moments and puzzle pieces and reminders that are just…_good_.

"You laugh like your mother."

And so easily forgotten.

"Guess what I found the other day?" I say in response because I'm not sure if I'm ready for that stuff.

"What?" He goes along with it, understanding in his eyes.

"Renee's famous chocolate-chip cookie recipe."

I watch in devilish delight as Charlie's eyes widen in horror.

"Don't worry, I actually know how to follow the instructions." I reassure him, coaxing a smile back onto his face.

"That sounds great, Bells. I've been jonesin' for some sweets lately, doughnuts just aren't cutting it these days."

"Careful, Dad, you're starting to sound like an old woman."

He harrumphed and stopped suddenly. "Say that again."

I got up from my bed and walked towards him, kissing him on the cheek and whispering, "I love you, Dad."

He sat at the small, cramped dining table in the kitchen, blasting Bob Marley from the radio and reading a newspaper while I bustled around, gathering the ingredients and bowls, my apron ties fluttering around me.

When I felt hands grab at the strings, tying them tight behind me, I held still, waiting to slap his hands away from the chocolate chips. And as soon as I saw him reach for a handful, I playfully swatted at him with a spatula and told him to get back to reading.

The cookies baking in the oven, I quietly set a small cup of chocolate chips on the table beside him and went upstairs to change out of my dress.

* * *

That night, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned and ached and wondered.

And then I called Jake. Because he'd know what to do. Turns out Alice really liked that shop he worked at, and had somehow managed to get his number. In case she had any fashion emergencies, she explained to me while entering the digits into my phone.

I didn't complain or stomp my feet or tell Alice I didn't need help getting guy's numbers.

Because it seemed too close to a little something called fate. And instead of feeling trapped and predictable, it felt _right. _

"Hello?" His deep voice was comforting and oddly alert considering how late it was.

"Hey, it's Bella, I don't know if you remember me…" I started uncertainly, wondering what the hell I was thinking to call him.

"Oh yes, the morose-looking girl who quotes Kerouac and is friends with that feisty little dictator who made me help try and find her the perfect dress. Bellsa, how could I forget you?"

"Uh, so…I was wondering, I mean we don't really know each other and I just needed…I wanted to see if you could…the store you work at is really cool and I was calling to see what time it closed?"

I think he heard me slap my forehead in frustration at my inability to speak coherently.

"Well, my dear Bellsa, it just so happens that I'm awake and fully capable of deciphering your strange little mutterings. And I know the perfect place for us to go."

I didn't have the heart to ask him if it was the damn doughnut shop. "Uh—"

"You know how to get to my mom's shop, right? A friend of mine runs this underground coffee place that has some fuckawesome scones. It's like, two or three blocks away from it. Just meet me in front of the store."

"Underground…scones?" I asked, confused and awed at the same time.

"Bellsa, can you make it to my mom's place in one piece or do I have to pick you up?" His voice sounded concerned.

"Nah, I'll see you there in fifteen."

"I'll bring my Elmer's glue just in case."

"Fuck you, Jacob."

The sound of his loud, infectious laughter had me smiling into the receiver even after it was replaced with the dial tone.

I hastily shrugged on the first couple of shirts I could find, pulling my hair into a makeshift bun and pulled on my boots. I was rushing out the door, just needing to be near Jacob—I couldn't explain why—when I jerked to a stop, my feet halting inches away from the front door.

I ran back upstairs to grab a pen and paper, and left a note on the entryway table.

I even drew a heart next to my name. Just because.

* * *

I pulled up in front of the store, my headlights illuminating a piece of dark road in front of me. A shadow crept forward.

"Just park it right here. We can walk."

It was pouring rain when I left the house, and it was still pouring rain when I pulled in to park alongside the wet curb.

I got out. "Christ, Bellsa, do you not own a fucking jacket or something? You know they invented hoods for a reason."

I looked down at my button up, straining against the three layers of clothing underneath. "I'm warm. I just wanted to feel the rain, you know?"

"Sure, Bells, just don't go getting sick or anything."

I start walking in a general direction so I wouldn't have to linger on the fact that he was acting like a mother hen.

A warm hand grabbed at mine. "You're going the wrong way."

I glanced up at him, noting the amusement in his voice, my lips twitching in an effort not to smile at his obnoxious, dimpled expression.

I raised the hand connected to his in a gesture for him to lead the way. "By all means."

We started walking in the opposite direction, the street light flickering, moving shadows through the downpour of rain.

"Everything alright?" He asked, his hand still holding mine, guiding me, his eyes on the shining ground ahead of us, our footsteps muted by the steady pit-pat of water.

I sighed, wishing I could say yes and try to make myself believe it.

"Don't answer that." He said, already knowing. "Come on, we're almost there."

I looked ahead, only seeing black and glistening pavement.

And I believed him.

"Uh…Jacob, if this is a ploy to get me to think you're macho or something, you should know that I already think so and you don't have to prove it." I whispered staring up at the eerie, storefront building that looked like a haunted ghost town saloon. The door was about to creak open any minute now, revealing a darkened entryway and no apparent sign of a door-opener, I just knew it.

The curious boy just snickered to himself, pulling me around to the back. "Watch where you step, Sam will murder me if we trample his wife's gardenias."

"Jacob, I can't even fucking see my own feet."

I followed Jacob through some dirt and up some stairs before finally reaching another door (at least I thought it was a door), because he jimmied the door knob. "Shit."

"It's locked." I said.

"Yeah, Bellsa, I'm aware of that."

He knocked four times, pounding the frames and making the hinges rattle. "Christ, Jacob, you're going to fucking wake the ghosts!"

He turned to look incredulously at me. "The ghosts?"

A light turned on suddenly, blinding me and flooding the porch with brightness.

"Who is it?" An ominous voice from behind the door called out.

"Sam, it's me, Jacob. Let me in, it's fucking cold out here."

The door opened, a silhouette appeared, illuminated only by the outside light. There was no light coming from inside. Jake pulled me in behind him.

We followed the shadow down a hallway, past some doors and down a flight of stairs. I gripped Jacob's hand tighter. A line of bright light shone underneath a set of swinging doors.

When we finally made it to the Promise Land, I was speechless at the modern kitchen before me. I stood in wonder at the shining appliances, the twenty bajillion ovens and surfaces, with those lights that hang down from the ceiling. There was a counter that separated the huge room, accompanied with barstools, and the other side was filled with tables and chairs. Music played softly in the background. And I smelled something that smelled….well pretty damn heavenly.

"What is this place?" I asked.

"This…is Sam's place. You're lucky, this back area is pretty exclusive. Top secret." His eyes both serious and mocking.

"Really?" I said sounding like a little kid who just found out you could actually go on the rides at Disneyland.

"Jacob, you want to introduce me to your friend?"

I turned toward the mysterious voice and took in the middle-aged guy before me. He had the same dark skin as Jacob, dark eyes wrinkled with age, his hair longer, pulled back in a braid. The man before me was surprisingly muscular and stocky, the apron he was wearing only accentuating the hard lines of his stomach.

"Bella, this is Sam. Sam, this is Bella." I stuck my hand out, his strong hand engulfing my own.

"Nice to meet you."

He nodded at me, before turning his gaze back to Jacob. I exhaled in relief. Something about his stare made me nervous.

"You guys are welcome to stay as long as you like. Coffee?" He asked Jacob.

"Bella?" He turned to me.

"Sure."

"What's on the menu tonight, chef?" Jacob inquired, smiling up at him.

"I'm trying my hand at pie tonight. I'll let you guys be the judge of how well it turns out." He answered before heading behind the counter and grabbing the coffeepot.

Jacob steered me to the farthest table in the room. "What is this?" I asked again when we sat down.

"Sam runs a small café with his wife Emily, that's what you saw upstairs. And this," he gestured all around us, "is what happens when you can't sleep."

"Ah." I said, understanding. "This is fucking awesome."

He chuckled. "Emily doesn't think so."

"Why? Delicious baked goods at three in the morning? Sounds like the shit to me."

"Yeah well. I don't know."

Sam set two cups of coffee down, along with some scones in a basket. He walked back to his sanctuary quietly, his socks padding along the hardwood floor.

I took sips while Jake munched on scones. I giggled at his ability to eat so fast.

"So," he started, his tongue playing with his lip ring, "start from the beginning."

And I did.

* * *

I pulled into the school parking lot Monday morning and tried to remind myself why I needed that damn diploma.

I sat through lunch wondering if someone could die from the mediocrity of life. Or from the loss of telling days apart, just time stretching out in front of you. Yeah. _That_ would surely kill you.

I stabbed the mystery meat with my fork while Alice stared daggers at me across the table. Angela laughed at some joke Ben was telling. I don't even think he'd gotten to the punch line yet. Jessica (she decided to sit with us today) pretended like she was eating, taking slow, loud gulps from her water bottle at one minute intervals. Mike sat next to me tearing into his meat like a caveman.

Ew.

"Mike, jesusfuck, you ever heard of knives?"

He turned to me, the meat still connected to his teeth. "Mmm?"

"Never mind."

He let go of the meat, straightening and leaning towards me. "Bella, I am a man. I don't need forks and knives. I know how to use my mouth like a real man."

He raised his eyebrows at me, pounding his chest like fucking Tarzan while Eric snorted.

Jessica looked at Mike like he was the most predatory, sexy beast alive. At least Darwin's theory applied to some people.

Maybe they'd get married and have little caveman babies. Like Bam Bam.

_God. _I'm going crazy. I can feel my brain melting, the slimy remnants leaking through my ears.

I saw Emmett walk by with a chattering Lauren. Jasper was following a few feet behind him.

I looked up from his scuffed converse and was taken aback by his intense expression.

He was staring straight at me as he strolled by in that lazy, unhurried gait, his eyes powerful and trying to tell me something.

_What?_

His eyes moved back behind him, glancing over his shoulder to the doors he'd just walked through. Then back to mine. He didn't mouth anything, didn't motion his hands…just stared fiercely at me, urging me.

"Bella?" Alice's voice made me jump, the cafeteria noises rushing back into my head at an alarming rate.

"What are you…" she turned to follow my gaze, her eyes taking in Jasper's back as he walked to the lunch line.

I stared at the ceiling, tapping the table and trying not to notice the way her eyes narrowed at me, debating whether or not to see me as competition.

I kept glancing anxiously at those doors, waiting and wondering what the hell Jasper wanted me to do.

After ten years, the doors opened again.

I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this.

Or…maybe it was.

I took in Edward, making his way across the cafeteria, alone. His eyes remained focused on the ground, his dark red hair everywhere, his lean shoulders slumped over and that damn flannel shirt loose, buttoned unevenly.

He looked so fucking _tired. _

What did I do?

He didn't even look over at me.

Wait.

Where was Rosalie?

I looked over toward Jasper's table. He looked back at me, his lunch untouched, the people around him animated while he sat stonily, waiting for me to make my move.

_Oh. _

I stood, slipping on my backpack and picking up my tray. Mike stopped talking to Ben, looking up and squinting at me. And before he could ask me if the bell rang, like he does every day, I said, "I forgot I have this thing I have to do."

Mike nodded, needing no further explanation.

I turned to go, only to be halted by Alice's accusatory voice. "What do you have to do, Bella?"

"I, uh, have to finish my homework for Bio. I just realized I didn't do the pre-lab."

I didn't wait to see if she believed me or not. I dumped my lunch in the garbage and left.

The moment the doors closed behind me, I was engulfed in the still silence of the halls.

_What now?_

I started walking down the hall, just waiting for a clue, something to go on. Without the sound of loud giggling or scuffling feet or stampedes of cliques, the place seemed foreign and peculiar, any noise illuminated by the empty, large space.

And then I heard it—a faint murmuring, muffled by a wall or door or some barrier. I kept moving forward, trying to get closer to it.

I started making out words just as my eyes zeroed in on the bathroom door. The blue sign glowed like a fucking treasure chest.

I dipped my head, letting my ear rest against the cold surface. I still couldn't put all the words together to establish the gist of the conversation. I knew that it had to be just one person, probably on a phone, or maybe just straight crazy.

I also knew that it was Rosalie on the other side of this door.

I pushed it open cautiously, unsure of how you're supposed to defend yourself when you're obviously walking in on someone else's one-sided tête-à-tête.

"Mom, no it's fine, I just wanted to make sure."

Her back was turned away from the door, and her hand was gripping the corner of the farthest sink. I let the door swing quietly behind me and stood there, trying to figure out my next move.

"Goodness, mom. No, I am not in the bathroom." Her voice sounded strained.

Her mom said something else, but I could only hear gibberish squawking. "Edward's great, he's just stressed about this soccer game coming up. He knows all the scouts are going to be there."

She paused, listening. "Yes, Mother. I'll remember. I have to go now, okay? I'll call you when I get home."

Sighing away from the phone, she bent her head forward before speaking again, repeating the same answer she'd given before.

She hung up after saying goodbye and squeezed her cell phone down by her side, her fingers turning pink and her breathing loud and heavy.

I was just about to cough or close the door again or grunt or _something_ when she starts screaming.

And not the high-pitched, girly, damsel-in-distress screaming, but the low, guttural screams of anguish and rage and frustration.

Screams of a prisoner.

_Holy fuck. _

I watched in shock as she began banging her fist against the mirror, her other hand dropping her phone and moving up to grab her hair. I didn't even hear the phone hit the floor because she was still shrieking.

And then she clutched the sides of the sink and threw up, her dry heaves echoing across the tiled walls. She fumbled to turn on the water, gurgling and spitting.

"I can't, I can't, I can't…" she whispered over and over to herself.

I felt like an intruder, hating that I put myself in this situation, once again. But I couldn't back out now.

She quiets her moaned words and just lets the water run.

It's now or never.

"I hate mother-daughter drama. It's just a total buzz kill, you know?" _Oh shit, Bella, what are you doing?_ _"_'Course you have to have a mom, to have issues _with _your mom." I chuckled nervously, but I think it came out more like a wheeze.

She turned and stared at me in mortification. Apparently, the fact that I'd just witnessed her emotional outburst was a bit daunting for her.

Well, that made two of us.

"Do you wanna…"I took tentative steps forward. "Listen, I have an idea, but you're going to have to trust me."

She continued to gape at me.

"I know what happened Friday night was unacceptable, and you have every right to be pissed. But there is _nothing _going on between Edward and me." I tried not to let the hurt seep into my voice. "He felt bad about what Lauren did. So, can we just move on?"

She gazed at me, speculating.

"Yeah okay, whatever. Enough girl talk." I picked up her cell phone, turning it off and slipping it in her purse. Then I grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the bathroom. "Just come with me."

I held on to her limp hand all the way to my car, leading her to the passenger side before making my way over to the other side. Unlocking my door and climbing inside, I reached to unlock hers.

She made no move to open the door, looking reluctantly back toward the school. I rolled down her window.

"Rosalie, get in the fucking car. I promise that if I do end up kidnapping you, I'll let you call Daddy for ransom and split it with you after they do an entire news special featuring your traumatic experience."

She glanced warily at me, her hair blowing around her face, catching along her protruding cheekbones. "I-I've never cut class before."

My jaw dropped. "Then can you tell me _why_ the fuck you're hesitating now?"

She just shook her head, unable to give me an answer.

"Rosalie. Live on the edge a little. Do something unpredictable for once, who knows, maybe it'll clear your head. Jesus Christ. Don't you ever just want to get away?"

Her head snapped to me, eyes wide and raw and way too baggy for an eighteen-year-old girl.

"Get. In. The. Damn. Car."

I revved the engine as she opened the door and stepped up, situating herself and fiddling with the seatbelt and crossing her legs.

I laughed, switching on the radio.

_Rosalie Hale is in my truck. _

I laughed again when I recognized the song playing.

Life was too damn ironic sometimes.

* * *

**What song just happened to be on the radio? Anyone?**

**A review goes a long way. **

**Just thought you all should know-- every one of you is a lovely, appreciated reader.**

**Oh yeah. For those of you who've read **_**Along for the Ride **_**by Sarah Dessen (I'm a huge Dessen fan, not gonna lie), I did, kinda sorta borrow the "underground bakery/café" thing from her. But with my own spin. **

**Here's a song for all you wonderful readers: **

**The Futile by Say Anything**


	13. Sway

**Sorry for the formatting issues on this one. FF is pissing me off. **

**Not mine. **

* * *

The world is self-centered. It goes and goes and goes. It doesn't stop revolving around itself. People go and go and go. And they don't stop talking about themselves.

Have you ever been in a crowded room, catching snippets of various conversations taking place all around you? I swear, every time I make myself pay attention, every one of them is talking about himself. Herself.

All of our self.

_Me, me, me. Me, me, me, me, me, me. You and I, but really just me. I, me, myself. _

_This is what I have to say. Be inspired. Be intimidated. Be entranced. Be whatever the hell you want, just don't interrupt. _

_Ultimately, my story is better than yours. My life is full of adventures and wondrous, fancy little observances that just make me more interesting. Who cares if we're being laughed at behind that two-way mirror, inside a fish bowl we'll never get out of—when it comes down to it, people want to observe me. It doesn't matter that what I'm saying is irrelevant and won't benefit anyone listening to this pitiful soliloquy. These words mean nothing to you, to me. They sound pretty. They make people look at me. _

_No one has to care or respond, just let me speak. Let me sing my sad, little song and relish my five minutes of glory. Because I am an attention whore. _

_And you can't judge me, because. _

_So are you. _

* * *

Nine Inch Nails blared through my busted speakers as I smirked and reversed out of my parking spot and asked myself what the fuck I was doing.

Rosalie shifted, uncomfortable, fiddling with her frumpy sweater that hugged non-existent curves. Her jeans sagged against the worn leather of my baby's seats. She attempted to sit up straight, pulling her shoulders back, her spine rigid, while she clasped her fragile hands in her lap.

I snorted over the pounding beat of the song. And drove. Not having any destination in mind, not knowing. The lyrics tapping out a rhythm that slinked over us, coating our bodies with sharp awareness and the sense of _now_. Right here_. _

_Got your chin held high and you feel just fine  
Because you do  
What you're told _

I glanced at her, the road mesmerizing in its illusion of eternal continuity. She's staring out the window—her posture now slouched so far her knees were pressed tight against the glove box beneath the dashboard.

I thought about the change that had taken place over the span of ten seconds. About how that's all it takes. Ten seconds of air, away from everything you've ever known.

Ten seconds of freedom…and you could never go back to seeing the world the same way. Because you'd see how selfish it was, how it took and took and pulled and drained and how it consumed your life.

In ten seconds you'd discover that you didn't care. That you wanted to be the one who pulled, who took because maybe, through that, you'd somehow understand why life was the way it was. Why it sucked and why it hurt and why it made you feel worthless and why it didn't give you answers. Why everyone refused to see it. Why everyone refused to see truth and pain and stare it down in the face.

__

But inside your heart

_It is black and it's hollow and it's cold_

Her fists were clenched, held close against her thighs, her shoulders strained and taut. I made no move to turn it down. The thing is, sometimes, the radio can be random and annoying (the pumping, robotic noises of the newest pop hit), but sometimes it can be fucking dead-on and inescapably real.

_Are you brave enough to see?  
Do you want to change it?  
_

I didn't have to speak or engage in conversation. I just had to drive. And let the music play.

__

What if this whole crusade's  
A charade  
And behind it all there's a price to be paid

And then I knew where we were going.

_Just how deep do you believe?  
Will you bite the hand that feeds?_

My fingers remained still on the wheel, focused and waiting to get there. She needed this.

_I keep holding on to what I want to believe  
I can see_

And somehow, I knew I needed this too. I ask all those question about life and finding myself and I'm such a fucking sadist that maybe, just maybe, there was purpose in helping someone else. Because hell, they were definitely much worse off than you were.

At least you were still sane enough to eat regularly.

At least you slept at night. Well, mostly.

At least you could make a stand for yourself to the blond-haired booby.

I wasn't sure I wanted to know what made her the way she was. It seemed too scary and too real—that life and people could make someone get to this point.

_But I keep holding on and on and on and on_

Letting the song finish, I turned down a series of roads, hearing the gravel hit my tires and knowing that something here just had to be right.

It just had to be.

I dared not look over at the girl in my car as I pulled into the parking lot that was really just a piece of flat land made up of tiny pieces of sediment and rock overlooking a tinkling creek that paralleled the edges of a small forest.

I put the truck in park, thinking absentmindedly of the time we dared Mike to streak through the forest in the dead of night. I don't even remember why we did. All I remember is that he came back bat-shit scared and claiming that he saw a vampire. We had laughed our asses off and Mike had never lived it down.

We may or may not have been drunk. I can't remember.

But ever since then, I'd always been curious. Disgustingly fascinated by the shadow of the trees at twilight, masochistically transfixed by the idea of danger so easily accessed.

There were days when I'd roll up my jeans, and wade into that cold, cold creek just staring at the dark silhouettes of trees and branches, wavering on the edge, tasting the air of unknown and supernatural mystery. With numb toes, the air prickly and new, I'd feel warmth trailing down my freezing cheeks and try to make myself understand. I'd try to feel like there was something more, like if I could just figure it out—like a complex puzzle that keeps you up at night because it just lies there, pieces strewn about, taunting you in its unfinished glory.

That was when I'd let myself cry. When I let myself go and push, _push, _reaching blindly for something to hold onto.

I got out of the car, shutting the door and climbing onto the fender, leaning back against my windshield and reveling in the warmth of my probably soon to be over-heated engine. I pulled my jacket closer to my body, surveying the stillness of the world, of the forest, the quieted sounds of the creek.

The wind stopped blowing, the leaves stopped rustling. Maybe the whole world was holding its breath in anticipation for this moment.

I wish I smoked.

I heard the passenger door open, creaking slowly, heard Rosalie's hesitant footsteps as she attempted to close the door without a sound and failed miserably.

She timidly moved into my peripheral, coming to a stop in front of the truck, facing me, with her hands on her hips, her face inquiring, _what now?_

"Do you smoke?" I asked.

Confused, she replied that she in fact, did not smoke.

I waited. For what, I wasn't entirely sure. But I thought maybe I should just give her a chance.

To say something.

To scream.

To punch me.

To fucking do something.

I waved my hands at her to take it away. She stared blankly at me.

"Okay then," I said, leaning back against my palms, "I'll start."

I leveled my gaze at her, making sure she was paying attention. "Look, I don't know you. You don't know me. But it seems to me that you need _help. _I mean, I'm no doctor, but fuck, will you look at yourself? You're not even living anymore. You're just hanging in the balance…and honestly I don't know what the hell you're waiting for."

She bit her lip, her eyes contemplative and unsure.

I couldn't stop. "And for the love of fuck, will you please eat something?" I jumped off my truck, rummaging through my backpack to see if I had a leftover granola bar at the bottom. I opened the wrapper and handed it to her, before resuming my previous position.

She held it between her index finger and thumb, refusing to look at it. She stared instead, at me. I leaned forward, my elbows braced atop my knees, murmuring gently, the words just coming out, "I get it, okay? This world is fucked up and lonely, shit doesn't make sense and nobody pays attention to how you really feel. I know. It's not because you want to be skinnier or fit into those stupid jeans—it's because you're dying inside and nobody fucking knows it."

I paused—letting everything else I wish I could say just speak for itself. "I get it."

She was still staring intensely at me, her knees shaking and everything around her motionless and somber. Without breaking eye contact, she ripped off the wrapper, clutching the bar between her fingers before opening her mouth to say something.

"I told my mom one time." She stopped, swallowing loudly, her voice raspy, "I thought I could…I don't know what I was expecting. I confided in her, hoping…I told her that I used to think about cutting myself," she closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, before opening them again, "just to feel something. To feel pain. I wanted to see—if I cut myself—whether or not I would still bleed."

I tried not to move or breathe or show any emotion that would prohibit her from continuing. She started tearing pieces off the damn granola bar, then dropping them on the ground. Her movements were so quick, nimble and smooth, that at first I wasn't even sure what she was doing in the first place. And I couldn't even tell her to stop. I couldn't even tell her that she was wasting a perfectly good piece of food.

"And do you know what she said?" She abruptly turned, pacing in front of me. Those pieces still slipping through her fingers, creating a trail that she walked over again and again.

_Tear, break, drop. Slipping, disintegrating, crumbs and pieces sinking into the ground. _

"She told me she used to be bulimic when she was sixteen years old. She said all the girls were doing it and that it was the only way she could get thinner. She said…" She choked on her sentence, a sob tearing up her throat, mid-step, her face twisted in agony.

My stomach tightened, my mind racing with rage and confusion and just _why_.

"She said that it was just a phase—that every girl deals with some outlet of teenage angst, but eventually, they get over it. That I was a normal, high school girl to be feeling this way. It was just a stage. Everyone has their pressures and insecurities."

"It was just a stage," she whispered, repeating it over and over, the last remnants of granola pieces falling from her palm.

She turned to me, her face wild, eyes delirious and clear. "And I thought to myself—that's what my whole life is. An order of stages, a predictable timeline of depression and fear and rage and not ever being good enough."

Her voice was escalating, almost shouting at me, "Everything I feel, every inclination I have has been felt by someone else, and it is therefore considered _normal_, and that, _that, _is supposed to make it bearable. You don't have to know the details of my pain, just that I have it. Don't worry everyone, pain is _normal_."

Her lip curled, sneering at the last word_. _It echoed, on repeat in my head.

"Pain is just a stage," she said softly.

I took a breath and worked up something to say because she was looking at me, asking me for anything I had to offer. "Rosalie."

"Your mother is an idiot."

Confusion flashed across her face, the corner of her mouth twitching and desperately trying to make a smile. The clash of emotion was apparent.

I got off my perch, stepping up to her. I grabbed her hands to halt their feverish fidgeting and took a huge breath. "You have to understand, I don't know anything. Really. I'm not an expert and I can't tell you that everything is going to be okay because it sure as hell isn't."

_Jesus Christ. _I took a deep breath and tried to…do something.

"I don't…pain…it's a struggle—something you'll fight your entire life. It hangs over your shoulders, you know," I searched her eyes for some reason to keep going, "and pushes and mutilates and strangles to the point that you'd think no one would recognize you. It's the funny joke that everyone nervously laughs over, their grubby hands and foul mouths, their sweat and stupidity suffocating you. They choose not to notice because it's easier to just pretend it's all a big motherfucking joke. It's easier to pretend everything is fine. That everything is perfect."

It wasn't an answer, but rather, a common perception. A united outlook. Rosalie didn't cry or nod her head, she looked at me with a sense of _togetherness. _And that's all I needed.

I laughed softly, ironically. "But you see, perfect…is an illusion—a fucked up lie. A mirage of an end result every human being strives for but never reaches."

Rosalie chewed her lip quietly, thoughtfully. "You swear a lot."

I waved my hand dismissively at her, bending down to roll up the cuffs of my jeans. She wasn't the first to tell me.

"Edward does too."

I ignored the shiver that ran up my spine at the sound of his name. "You don't?" I asked, looking up at her.

She shrugged, "I never felt the…I don't know, urge, I guess."

I stared stupidly at her. "How is that….even possible?"

She shrugged again, examining the chipping paint on my truck.

"Huh."

"Yeah. Edward can't make sense of it either." She gazed back at me and I cringed, expecting her glance to be accusatory, feral, only to find her eyes probing, inquiring.

"Maybe it's because. Well, my dad can't stand it when I swear…but the thing is, you can't say a substitute swear word and get the same point across. I've tried, like back in middle school or something. You don't feel the same power or relief that comes with saying the real world, trust me. It's just…I don't know…liberating?"

Her eyes were laughing at me, mocking my explanation. I jumped up, determined to prove my argument, the cuffs rolled up to my knees, exposing my pale, skinny calves and muddied converse. "Okay, so if I was really pissed at something—maybe like getting a bad grade on a test," I made a face at my cliché example, "and I came up to you and started venting about how my teacher sucks and how my life is unbearable and how my parents are going to kill me and then I'll never get to go to college, blah, blah, blah…I would finish that whole spiel with something really dramatic, right?"

"Right." Her mouth was twitching now.

"If I were to end it with, oh let's say, 'Dear God, Rosalie, woe is me, high school is such a bunch of crap!' Would you take me seriously?"

"Uh, yes?"

"That doesn't sound very assuring. Here's another question: would I feel very satisfied with my outburst if I ended it with such a statement?"

"Um, well. I don't believe I could, oh just…no."

I smiled triumphantly at her. "Aha. And therein lies the issue. But what if I, instead, ended with something to the effect of, 'Rosalie, oh hell, just fuck. My. Life. High school is a bunch of shit. Pure, meaningless, idiotic _shit.' _How would you feel about that?"

"Wait. But those aren't the same sentences…"

"Tut-tut-tut. Doesn't matter, they're essentially saying the same thing. _Now _do you see what I'm trying to tell you?"

"Crap or shit? Crap or shiiiiiiiiiit? Which one feels better?"

All I could hear was her giggling. I bit back a smile when I discovered that she was leaning up against my car, giggling and covering her mouth to quiet the snorting, her cheeks pink and her hair falling over her shoulders.

"Yes, all right. That's very funny." I said, picking out the words she attempted to get out in between chortles of laughter. Something about me and defending the art of swear words, I think.

I stepped back and just enjoyed the sound of her laughter.

"Come on, we're going fishing."

After telling her repeatedly that no, sharks in fact, did not live in creeks, she finally dipped her dainty little pink toes in the water. And then I made her go knee deep with me. Yes, it was by force.

We stared at the forest, entranced and silent. Letting the quiet ambiance of nature fill in all the gaps of pain and uncertainty, letting it do the talking and say all the words I couldn't.

"Bella, why is the bottom of the creek so mushy?"

I turned to her, knowing the moment was over.

"That, Rosalie, is called mud."

* * *

After we got our shoes back on and my ears drums recovered from all the screaming, we turned around one more time to catch a glimpse of the place that was our secret.

We got into my truck, leaving the crumbs, her marks in the dirt, behind us.

I drove back to the school, no radio, just us breathing, understanding. The silence and lack of dialogue was comforting and effortless.

The empowering presence of mutualism is enough for us. It binds us.

I'm pulling back into the parking lot, sidling up next to her car.

I try not to brake too hard when I notice Edward leaning against it, thumbing his iPhone.

I try not to stop breathing when he looks up, his green eyes knowing, expecting to see me. I watch them flicker to Rosalie, then back to me, his dark gaze entrancing me, making my hands shake on the steering wheel as I coast to a stop. I try not to notice the way those black circles under his eyes accentuate his brooding mystique, his frustrating, confusing demeanor.

Rosalie made no move to open her door. She turned to face me while I tried to act like I wasn't staring at Edward's Adam's apple bobbing up and down, his pale throat enticing me through the glass barrier of my smudged window. I made myself focus on the blue of her eyes instead of the burning emeralds behind her—the eyes that make me want and hate and _need. _

"Bella, I…"

_Ice. Jade. Broken. Tired. Trapped. _

_Small and weak and misunderstood and crying out. _

_Angry and instinctive and trying and aggressive and red. Dark brownish auburn red—tangled and twisted and falling and beautiful. _

Her face hardened. My vision came into focus on the furrow between her eyebrows. "I'm not stupid."

I nodded without thinking, my mind on the maddening boy outside. "Yes. I know."

She tipped her head to the side, pondering, her forehead smoothed of its previous wrinkles. "I'm having a party at my house this Friday. Just a…you know…get together. Whatever. You should come."

"Listen, Rosalie…I don't. Uh. I'm not…"

She reached for her backpack, placing her hand on the handle, opening the door before letting me finish. She got out, looking back over her shoulder at me while I floundered for a response. "I'll see you there."

And then Rosalie Hale shut my door with a slam that made me flinch.

I made myself watch her pop her trunk, discard her backpack, then fiddle with something. Probably looking for her cell phone.

I peeked up at Edward wishing and not wishing that he was still looking at me.

A gasp escaped by lips at the intensity of his gaze. It saw right through me without my permission. I could do nothing about his scorching, searching stare.

I wanted to drown in it. It made me breathe, made me feel alive.

I wanted to tell him that his girlfriend was right there, that she needed help, needed someone to listen.

But I couldn't.

I wanted him to be mine.

Because I was selfish.

* * *

**I wasn't all for putting lyrics into a chapter but I thought it was just too perfect for this moment. Thanks a million for all your support. You readers keep me going. More specifically your reviews. Cough cough. Let me know what you think. **

**The Hand That Feeds – Nine Inch Nails**


	14. Grey

**Wow. So I got recc'ed on the FanFiction Rebels blog, which was an honor, lemme tell you. I can't even tell you how much that meant to me. I'm floored, really. This chapter goes to all the reviewers who heard about this story from them. Welcome aboard. Thanks goes to all the others who've stuck with me. I love you all. And S, you're my number one fan. **

**Oh how I wish I owned Edward. Dammit. SM, you win again**

* * *

I stared at the scratches glittering across the surface of the table. I counted the intervals between Angela's laughter and Mike's barking and Alice's reminders to eat my food instead of poking at it. The noise of the cafeteria overpowered anything else, making it really hard to comprehend my own thoughts.

Like faint murmurs in the midst of a thunder storm, my inner monologue struggled to be heard.

I was proud that I didn't look up when Edward walked by holding Rosalie's hand. I was proud that I didn't gawk at the entrance of the rich kids, who strode across the floor like it was a runway not good enough to hire photographers and screaming fan girls. Like they did every day.

Some things just got old. And I was tired, so fucking tired, of it.

I thought about Jacob and ease and unpredictability and ghosts.

"It's okay…that you're attracted to him. That you want him," he'd said that lovely night, smirking at me.

I gaped at him. "That's not true...what?" He was shaking his head at me. "I _never_ said that."

"Bellsa, you didn't have to."

He looked up at me, soulful beneath his scrunched up eyebrows, sympathetic and…something else.

It made me want to lie.

It reminded me that I couldn't.

"I don't know even him, Jake. But when he looks at me…I can see the world reflected in his eyes." I murmured, blowing my coffee. "And I can't bear it…he infuriates me because I want…"

I felt a warm finger stop the movement of my lips. My eyes flashed to his.

"You're beautiful when you're frustrated, you know that?"

I rolled my eyes and tried not to blush under his dark, penetrating gaze.

"Bella?"

I snapped back to reality, my focus centering in on Alice's blinking eyes right in front of my face.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear the fuzziness. And the metallic ringing. "Uh, yeah?"

"Edward Cullen is staring at you." She whispered furiously across the table. "We must talk now. I don't care about you or your emo bullshit. You need to spill. Now."

I didn't have the chance to protest (or even check to see if he really was staring) when she dragged me up by my arm, the movement dislodging my tray, spilling its contents across the table.

Everyone at the table stopped talking and stared at us, speechless. Alice was still gripping my damn sleeve.

"Dramatic much, Alice?" I muttered out of the corner of my mouth.

"Oh shut up, and let's get out of here."

I followed her like the dutiful friend that I was, but not before looking back—just to see—as I watched the swinging door whoosh in front of me in Alice's forceful wake.

Rosalie's head was down, resting against the surface of the table, her hair shielding me from seeing her face. Edward's hand was on her back, it remained motionless (at least in the second I turned around), but he was looking at me.

It wasn't the intense stare that made me shiver, the color of his eyes and the chiseled planes of his face squeezing the air out of my lungs. It was soft, inquiring, asking—making sure.

His eyes were wide and cool, the flame flickering around the edges, his brows set forward in concern, in a question, that damn bed-head/after-sex hair falling limply into his eyes and across his forehead and…

Jacob's words echoed across the cafeteria.

"Just…don't let yourself be fooled, okay? I'd hate for you to let whatever the hell this fuckery is, screw you over." He had warned after I told him everything.

"I'm not stupid, Jake." I'd replied.

I tried to remember why now, in this moment, I felt an eerie sense of déjà vu.

* * *

"…I don't know what's going on, Bella. But I'm tired of being surprised by everything I hear about you. I don't know even know you. It's like you're not even my best friend anymore."

I suppressed the urge to shoot myself. "What are we twelve, Alice?"

"Well, you sure are acting like you're twelve years old. Why are you keeping secrets from me?"

I turned to wash my hands. If we were going to kick everyone out of the bathroom, it might as well be put to good use. And maybe because I needed to do something to distract myself.

Rosalie's habits were rubbing off on me.

"Look at you," I could make out her flailing arms in the right corner of my eye. "What changed? Please. Make me understand. God. Just fucking talk to me for once. "

I sighed before turning to her, my hands shivering from the freezing temperature of the sink water. "I'm so tired, Alice."

She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "Of what, Bella?"

I searched her eyes for a sign, willing her just to _see, _to understand. Words are overrated.

"Do I need to ask permission to get an answer from you?" She continued, haughty and glaring.

"Of this. Of all this shit. I'm tired of you trying to analyze everything, I'm tired of you always trying to read into things, I'm tired of drama and stupid conversations and trying to make myself feel like I'm doing something with my life. I'm tired of not trusting and feeling like I'm going insane. God, I…never asked you to understand…and you're just so hypocritical sometimes—"

Her small hand pushed against my chest, as she held it there with force, halting my words. "Oh please Bella, I'm the hypocrite? Take a look in the goddamn mirror honey, because if I am a hypocrite, you are a traitor."

I swatted her hand away. "This is ridiculous. Just fucking grow up, Alice. I don't feel like telling you shit about me because you don't care. You don't _listen_. I don't tell you shit about what goes on here at school because that's all you _do _care about. And it makes me sick."

"Oh you don't get to lecture me, Bella. You're not better. You're not above me. What the fuck am I supposed to think when I see you getting cozy with Jasper? Huh? What the fuck am I supposed to say when I hear you've got a thing for Edward Cullen and that Rosalie invited you to her party this weekend? Will you tell me, my dear Bella, what the fuck I'm supposed to think _then_?"

She was yelling at me. She was in my face yelling at me and all I wanted to do was fucking wash my hands.

I stood there, pushing the soap dispenser again and again. The cool liquid slipping over my fingertips, dripping down, oozing along the side of the sink.

"God Alice, it's not that big of a deal. I don't even know if I'm going."

"Were you even planning on telling me?" Her voice was sharper, lower.

"Well yeah, maybe, if you hadn't gone all Nazi on me. Shit, Alice. That was so stupid."

She ignored the jab, instead choosing to narrow her eyes at me, her perfectly arched eyebrows pulling together, "You have to go, though. You can't _not_ go."

"Jesus, why the fuck does everyone keep saying that?"

"Everyone? Why the hell does everyone know and I'm just now finding out about it?"

"Jesus Christ, you're being impossible, Alice. I meant about their parties in general. Everyone acts like an invitation is binding—it's like a fucking conspiracy."

"Because it's the truth. Common knowledge."

"Are we done here?" I asked, grabbing some paper towels, not having the strength to face her.

"No," she shot back quickly, harsh and menacing. "Are the rumors true?"

"I don't even know what they are, Alice," I murmured wearily, wiping the water residue from my hands.

And that was when she snapped.

"Well fine, but when you become the next Lauren, when you decide to ditch the only friends you've ever known, who've stuck by you, don't even _think_ for a second that you can come back to us. And for fuck's sake get a better surgeon to work on your tits." She was screaming at me again, the syllables bouncing against the walls and my head. "And when Edward Cullen breaks your tiny little heart after he has his way with your sorry little virgin self and leaves you high and dry, don't say I didn't warn you. Don't come crying to me when you realize it's not what you thought it would be. I'm not on your side anymore, Bella. It's just you."

I heard her creep closer, her voice growing ominous. "You did this to yourself, Bella. Just do me favor and get your fucking life together, because I honestly don't want to pick up the pieces that are left behind."

She paused while I cringed because this was too much and I couldn't take it and I knew that what she was about to say would be the icing on the fucking cake.

That last statement had to be just right.

"And Bella? Jasper is mine. Stay the fuck away from him."

I didn't say anything for a long time, couldn't find it in me to breathe as I crouched frozen in a state vulnerability, in a state of pure immobility.

The next words she spit at me, her talons sinking beneath the flesh, tightening and curling around the edges of my heart. "You stupid, naïve little girl. You think you know so much about the world, but you know _nothing_. Nothing."

I heard the bathroom door open and close and prayed no one would come inside.

Everything was going too fast, too hard and I was so, just so tired.

I wanted to go home.

I wanted anything but here. Now. I wanted to have the capacity to regret and to feel bad but all I could feel was hurt and doubt and burning shock that fizzed around the corners of my vision.

And my stomach was tightening painfully, my body curling in on itself, a vain attempt to protect myself from a stabbing that came from within.

I swallowed whatever noise, whatever sob, whatever thing forcing its way up my throat because I was a coward who didn't deserve to cry or scream.

I punished myself with silence. With muted, tortuous pain.

The throbbing and the loud, screeching silence blazed a path up through my brain, black and darkness threatening to consume, lapping against the edges—pulling and fighting and pushing to steal my vision, blurring out tears and clarity and sense.

I couldn't control it. I let it consume me.

I let the fire burn, feeling the bite of the flames that licked at my skin, wanting and wanting, more and more.

My mouth opened in silent agony and I stared at the rotten, faded tile of the bathroom floor as a glob of wet sounded against it, the sheen registering through the haze of neutral, grayed colors.

It wasn't a tear.

It was a glob of spit that had hung from the side of my mouth, suspended and escaping, the only thing I'd let go of.

I stared dumbly at it, wishing life wasn't everything and nothing and evaporating before my eyes and that I could sob prettily and slide down the wall and put my face in my hands like the normal girls in movies.

It was too hot and there wasn't air and my drool was the shiniest part of the fucking bathroom floor. And it was all wrong, wrong, _wrong. _

I had to get out.

When I was eight, Angela and I were out riding our bikes around the neighborhood—we'd always bike around Ben's house trying to work up the guts to ask him to come outside and play (which usually ended up in me yelling at Angela that she better go up and ring his doorbell already or I would tell him that she wanted to play house with him just so he could be the dad instead of my Ken Barbie doll). But on this particular day I was irritated because my dad hadn't noticed that I cleaned my room all by myself and that I had done my hair in two braids (just like Alice taught me). So, because I was bored, I challenged Angela to a race. She had, reluctantly of course, agreed. I would've won too. I'll never forget making it to that stupid tree with the tire swing only to turn, a smile of victory on my lips, and not see Angela anywhere. I'll never forget the fear and panic that made my legs shake as I climbed back onto my back, pedaling as fast as I could, screaming her name. And when I did see her, after pedaling so long I thought my legs would fall off, hunched over and hugging her knee, I was so scared. I scrambled off my bike, tripping in my haste to get to her. And I smelled her tears and that rust, that oozing, sharp odor that has forever haunted me. I remember looking at her knee splattered and dripping with dark, dark crimson red and the smell just infesting my skin as I tried to tell her that she would be okay, that my dad was a cop and that he could save her, before everything got hot and fuzzy and Angela went in and out of focus, her sobs catching and ebbing slowly to silence before black spindled, closing in and taking my vision until I felt small and suffocated and then nothing.

I awoke in a hospital bed with Angela staring at me with curious, worried eyes. "You don't like blood, they said. It's bad for you." She leaned in close, whispering. "But the thing I don't get is, how can you not like blood, if it's inside of you? Does that mean that you're like an alien and don't have _any _blood at all?"

I had screamed then for my dad, for my mom, who I still thought would appear if I screamed loud enough. The entire hospital was in an uproar. The sheriff's daughter was crazy, apparently.

And from outer space.

* * *

I rushed through the halls, desperate to get to my car before the blackness closed in, that familiar trepidation creeping up my stomach, the overheated flush, not hearing my footsteps, the blurry lines of objects and passing images mixing together.

I couldn't do this, not now.

I had to make it.

I couldn't embarrass myself, again.

I was moving, running, things and places moving by me fast, too fast.

I felt the fresh air of outside, rejoicing because I was close, so close. But I couldn't breathe it in.

I saw the rusty red of my car and I smelled blood and sweat and fear and I kept going, trying to see past the black haze that stole more and more of my vision, wavering and changing, like a broken, muted television.

I was there, I could feel my door and the handle and I shakily fumbled through my backpack for my keys, searching blindly, feeling the cold metal and trying to grip them, only to hear the clanking sound as they hit the black pavement two seconds after I saw the glinting shape of them make contact with the ground.

And in slow motion, the black battling the gray and shiny texture of the keys, I watched a pale shape close over them, slowly following the trail up a fluffy, blurry sleeve, moving up and up to a shadowy, indistinct face with sharp angles and hard lines and shining, clear green.

It was closing, the hole so small and everything else so black and I held on to _green_, trying so hard to just stay.

"Bella!"

But I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough. I let the black consume me. The green faded, wrenched from my tight grasp.

* * *

I floated in dark oblivion. Waiting for nothing and seeing nothing, I was aware of my own passive contentment with a vast darkness that cloaked me in peaceful silence.

I could hear water and splashing and I had the sense that I was moving, pushed by waves, hovering above the surface.

I felt like I was dreaming. Exploring and moving through a realm of mist and grey and black.

Voices echoed all around me.

I strained to make out words. They started out soft, building in volume and cutting out and I couldn't ignore it.

"—ella? Can you hear me? Oh God, Bella, wake up. Please, god, shit, what am I supposed to do?"

The syllables were slow and bouncing everywhere—around me, in front of me, beneath me.

_Shh, _I wanted to tell him. _You're disturbing the quiet. You're ruining the serenity of calm and nothingness. _

"Bella, Bella, Bella, you need to wake up."

It was loud now, ringing in my ears. His voice a harsh and desperate velvet edge, cutting into my unconscious, consuming the black, overpowering the veil of stillness, of blissful and heavy suspension in the reality of time and space.

"Tell me what to do…shit, Bella, I don't know what to do. Help…someone help…I can't, she's not waking up. Please."

He sounded sad. So sad. I couldn't take it. It was torturous and unbearable and sometimes…

Ignorance is bliss.

Reality is blinding and painful.

Awareness is guilt and confusion and hate because you don't understand.

My eyes shot open of their own accord, the black fleeing as the grey light overwhelmed my senses, my vision, my everything.

And then jade and emerald and deep, dark green.

I wanted to drown in it.

I took in the worried lines of his forehead, that crease between his eyebrows…how strange they looked on him.

Edward Cullen never worries. About anything.

And then his eyes settled on mine, searching for something, searching to see if I was still there, if my soul was still present. The green was hardened and soft and strong but so, so weak. Vulnerable.

And behind all the stress and the fear, behind all the shit I caused him to go through by fainting in his damn arms like some fucking fairytale…

Behind all that, well. I saw exhaustion.

Fatigue.

It made me want to curl up with him and just sleep. Forever.

Then he was yelling at me, his poor, tugged-on hair falling into his eyes and that stupid muscle in his delicious jaw clenching and distracting my fuzzy, easily distracted brain.

"What the fuck, Bella? Jesus Christ, you gave me a goddamn heart attack! You just…you fucking collapsed…I didn't even know what the hell to do! You can't do that to me, Bella. Does this happen often?"

And then before I could pull my eyes away from those red, chapped lips and attempt to explain that I needed to go home because I just wanted to sleep in my bed, his eyes narrowed into slits.

I wanted to smooth my fingertips over his eyelids. He was so beautiful.

"Bella," he started, his voice deathly calm, "what happened?"

He was too close to me. I couldn't breathe when he was so _there, _smelling like rain and earth and cigarettes, scrutinizing my expression, trying to make sense of something that could never be solved.

The pieces of this puzzle would never be put together. I wanted to warn him.

Was it wrong to let him hope?

Was I hoping that he really was the good guy?

That he wanted to put me back together again?

I shook my head, closing my eyes, shielding myself from the sheer magnitude of his perceptive gaze.

I needed to get up. Edward, anticipating this, gripped my waist as he leaned me against my truck.

His palms cupped my shoulders, thumbs kneading the tension they encountered in the muscles there. "Okay?" he inquired, his head ducking down to check my eyes for any sign of distress.

I nodded, not having the strength to speak. I felt like Ariel, voice stolen by the wicked, evil sea-witch.

I hated Ariel. I thought she was a spoiled brat who got her way. And her prince.

"Please," he begged softly, "will you tell me what's wrong?"

I was struck by it. _There, _I thought. That's what I've been looking for.

For the first time in a long while, I saw something genuine, something true and needing and just and caring. It was staring me in the face and I was in awe of it. Of its beauty. My lips separated with an audible click.

"I…made a mistake. I don't know what…People I used to know so well, I don't know. Or I hate that I know them. I hate how everything in this town is grey. I hate it when people talk about nothing. I can't feel things or _just_ do my homework or buy Christmas presents or call my mom back like every other fucking, _normal _teenager."

I looked away from his burning, too-understanding eyes and whispered, "I just don't know who I am anymore."

"Hey. Look at me." I turned my head slowly, scared of what I would see in his eyes. "Fuck normal. Fuck high school. God, Bella, how can you not even see—"

"Cullen!"

We both jumped at the sound. Edward's arms shot up, bracing his hands against the door, effectively protecting my face from the intruder.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Well shit you too partner.

I resisted the urge to tap his shoulder and remind him that he was pressed up against my car. Which was fuckawesome and one-of-a-kind. Meaning whoever it was would want to know what Edward was even doing next to a vehicle remotely over a year old.

I heard pounding footsteps and I ducked my head instinctively because Edward remained in the same position and I don't know if this made me feel ashamed or happy or what-the-fuck. And then I sucked it all down to angle my head over Edward's forearm, seeing the muscular football player frame before that huge, American boy grin registered.

He slowed down as he got nearer, until he stopped, giving us some space while still grinning madly at us, not fazed by our stupid freaking innuendo-filled arrangement.

I watched his dimples twitch, his smile faltering for a second, something like rage flickering in his eyes before disappearing behind an innocently curious expression.

The motherfucker was good.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" He snickered.

His voice was too loud.

Edward was too busy looking at me to notice Emmett. I nodded my head toward the big oaf because, well, answer the damn question, idiot. Edward got the message.

"Emmett, listen, now's not really a good time. Bella's feeling a little faint and I have to make sure she can get home okay. So, you can go and actually make your ditch worthwhile." He said from the side of his mouth, his voice crystal clear and threatening and all the while his freaking emerald eyes remained on mine.

"Oh, trust me Edward, it already has proven to be so." Emmett murmured back just as poisonous, that stupid smile still plastered upon his cherubic face.

Edward released his breath slowly. "That will be all, Emmett."

Emmett started walking backward, the smile gone, but his words floated up into the air, stifling me.

"Be a fucking man, Edward. Tell her the truth."

I looked back at Edward. He chose to ignore it. He stared at my lips instead.

I reached down to pick up my backpack from the ground and he handed me my keys and I didn't ask what Emmett was talking about or whether he _liked me liked me_. I didn't giggle or slap him for putting me and faint in the same sentence. I didn't thank him for catching me. I didn't pull on his hair or explain to him that I wasn't human. I didn't ask him why it's so hard to cry, why sometimes you can just sob and sob and sob without the tears ever stopping and why there are times when your eyes are so dry and heavy that it hurts because you want to cry so terribly.

I turned to him and stared at his chin. "I don't want to know the truth."

Because it's something you so desperately crave and something you think you need. But it also fucking terrifies you.

I felt older, as I drove away from him, swiping at tears that wouldn't come, like I had aged a million years over the span of ten seconds.

Maybe that's what growing up feels like. Maybe that's how you become an adult. One day you just feel…old.

And tired.

And all you want to do is sleep.

I got home and pulled some Top Ramen out for Charlie and didn't bother changing my clothes before crawling into my bed.

I tried not to feel cold or lonely because there was no one beside me.

I didn't look in the mirror because I didn't want to know. Truth or change or age. We all want it, need it, crave it, but when it has the ability to look back at us gleefully, somehow, it fucking petrifies us.

We wish we can go back.

But we can't.

And that's the truth.

* * *

**Please review. Thank you. **

**Mmm. Also, I just wanted to comment on something that has been bugging. Sorry, being nitpicky here. Sah0004 can vouch for this, she puts up with all my whiney, insecure bullshit. *Puts hands in the air* I am a working college student. So in case you all were wondering, I do have a life. As much as I would LOVE to live in a flat in London (or with my fanfic soulmate, who will soon own ten cats) and drink gin cherry slurpies and read Shakespeare and write fanfic, I cannot. So I apologize if the updates are sporadic or spaced too far apart…and I can understand why this would be upsetting. But I am warning you now—my updates could either be over the span of three days (hah) or five weeks. I'm sorry but I just can't guarantee when the next chapter will appear. **

**Moving on, thank you again for all your guys' love and greatness.**

**And just because I'm curious (and because I love putting extra long ANs at the end of my chapter), what are you all reading as of this now? Could be a book, fanfic, uh newspaper, magazine, textbook, whatever. **


	15. Perfection

**Thank you all for being so patient. This one was kind of a bitch to write. But I loved every minute of it. Yes, it's possible. And I apologize if for last chapter's bitchy A/N, with me spewing shit about not being able to post on a regular schedule, blah, blah, blah. I'm sorry if that came off snobby, please know that I'm extremely grateful that you all are so anxious to read my updates. **

**Thank you to all the veterans who've been here since the beginning and to all the new readers, welcome and glad you decided to check this out. **

**Sah0004, I love you. But what else is new?**

**SM owns these characters. I just use them for my own purposes. Muahaha. **

* * *

Life went on.

I slept and slept and slept while the world moved and moved and moved.

I woke up feeling lost and alone. It was late, I could tell because it was pitch black through my window and I could hear the faint murmur of a newscaster in the background. Charlie watched news whenever he got home late from work.

Alice's words flooded back to me, invading the privacy of my comforting bed covers.

_You think you know so much about the world, but you know nothing. Nothing. _

I blinked, my eyes burning and dry, squeezing them tight together, trying to alleviate the pain.

I changed into some sweats so I didn't look like a freak and ambled my way down the stairs, my bare feet pale in the light flickering from the television. Seeing his jacket and boots in the entryway, I turned to his lounging form on the couch. The newscaster droned on.

"Late night?" I asked, coming around to plop myself on the other side of the couch.

Charlie looked over at me, taking in my disheveled state and groggy voice. "Bad day at school?"

I nodded. He didn't mute the television or inquire further. He just watched me, waiting.

I looked at the screen. "I'm sorry about dinner. I was really tired."

His head cocked in bemusement. "Are you not getting enough sleep at night?"

"No Dad, I'm fine. Today was just…"

"A real bruiser, huh?"

I sighed. "Yeah."

Easy.

I hadn't realized how much I'd taken it for granted.

I turned to face the screen, content to just bask in the feeling of not needing words, not needing to prove something, not needing to defend myself.

For the first time in a long while, I felt at home.

"Hey." I felt strong fingers turn my cheek. My brown eyes met his soft stare. "I believe in you."

_Home. _

"Okay." I said, before reaching up to squeeze his hand. I got up, making my way toward the kitchen. "Bowl of cereal?"

"Get out those big Tupperware bins, would you, honey? I feel like partying tonight."

I laughed loudly, my giggles echoing off the empty, hollow walls. It bounced off old picture frames of innocence and has-beens of long ago.

As I pulled out the Honey Nut Cheerios and milk from the refrigerator, I couldn't help but wish my life was perfect.

I reached up for the Tupperware bins, and took the thought back. Perfect was eating small, healthy portions before six.

Imperfections made you stop and try to understand. They made you question and hate and scream…but maybe that was better than not questioning and not hating and not screaming. Maybe it was better than not knowing happiness, better than a predestined, unblemished future.

* * *

I called Jacob.

He picked up on the third ring. "Hey."

I sighed. Easy.

"So." I started, just reveling in the comfortable silence, waiting to see if he'd break it.

He didn't.

I chewed my lip, mulling over what I should say. "There's a party on Friday."

He paused, sensing something more.

"I don't want to go."

His response was immediate. "You have to."

I slammed me forehead against the palm of my hand and started muttering under my breath. What the fuck was wrong with the people in this town?

He chuckled low, laughing at me. "Sorry. But even I know that."

"Fucking A."

"Yeah," he agreed.

I waited.

"Look, I'm not into the whole 'Support Rosalie Fan Club,' but I think you should go just…to get out."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I shot back.

"I'm just saying that you need to like, live a little, you know, get a little buzzed, have some fun…" He let the sentence dangle before adding, "but stay the _fuck _away from Edward Cullen."

"Hmm."

"Seriously, Bellsa, do you hear me?"

"Partying is not my way of having fun." My voice sounded belligerent, like a child, even to me.

"Oh yeah, and what is? What do you do to escape?" His voice had taken on a serious edge, desperate and abrasive.

"I can't." I whispered without thinking.

I heard a loud thumping and a harsh exhalation of breath.

"Listen, I have to go," he said in clipped, sharp syllables, his voice sounding too close, like he was right next to me.

"Okay," I replied, even though I knew he'd already hung up.

It was only when a sharp sound tore up my throat, a sob that kept building and building, that I let myself be ironic.

_It's terrible, _I thought. _Why would anyone want to be perfect?_

* * *

The next few days I sat in the library during lunch, some godforsaken dusty corner, stared at the ground while walking through the halls, and tried the whole time not to upchuck.

Jake never called. Charlie worked late nights consecutively--apparently there was some menace stalking the woods--and asked me if I had any plans for Friday night.

I balked. I told him I'd call Angela or something. I stared at the numbers on the phone and contemplated dialing 911.

Friday morning dawned in its usually bleakness, sun blotted out by misty clouds and smoky grey. I stepped into the hot shower and decided I would just go to that damn party.

Not because I had to. Not because it was expected of me. Not because Jake or everyone in the whole fucking world thought it would be good for me.

Not to spite Alice or show Lauren or please Rosalie. Not to fuck with Edward or smile at Jasper or beg Emmett.

Because I needed something bad, something unsteady, something unpredictable and heady and fast and _consuming_. And if it was in the form of some juvenile acts and deluding myself into stupid, fake oblivion and trying to be cool but failing miserably, then so be it.

The worst that I could do was make a fool out of myself. Well. Then I'd be just like everyone else…so maybe for once in my life I'd fit in.

Ha.

I wasn't sure if I was in on it for me or for Rosalie anymore. At this point, it didn't seem to matter. The worst of two evils?

I wasn't entirely sure who it was.

Where the fuck did she live anyway?

* * *

I found out later that day…when I got a fucking text with her address. Turns out, that's what everyone who's invited gets. The address of the location of the party.

Jesus. What in the hell did I get myself into?

I felt like the fucking bourgeoisie with a ticket to the opera or whatever the fuck they did in France for kicks back then. Absentmindedly I thought to myself that I should've paid attention in that class.

I looked for her in the halls in between classes but saw Edward walking toward me instead. I decided to say something since it otherwise would've looked like I had been caught staring.

I backed him into a locker, shoving my phone into his face, "What the fuck is this?"

My hostility shocked even me. I ignored the sharp curve of his freshly shaved chin or the way he was smirking at me, and not my phone. "You need a new phone."

_You need to explain and stop smirking and hiding from me and being beautiful and smelling like air and apples and being the home that's always out of reach. _"Answer the damn question, Edward." I grounded out each word.

He laughed at me, all cocky and stupid and man, without knowing that everything he did made me breathless. "What's got you so tense? It's just an address."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "So I just fucking google it or something?"

He laughed again, low and rumbling from his chest. His eyes were daring me. "You're actually going?"

I stopped, cautious. "Why wouldn't I?" I whispered, the words coming out breathy and hushed.

He was still smiling, but it was different, soft and small while his eyes no longer danced, wide and anxious and sea green. "You don't know, do you?" He tugged on a wisp of hair hanging down by my face.

And I wanted him to notice that my hood was up and that my shirt was made of cotton and that my bra was from Target and that my socks were too small. That underneath my hoodie, I wore a chain necklace around my neck with a key on it.

That one time, a pretty boy who worked at a boutique store asked if it was the key to my heart.

He turned right after that, sensing something, even though I was focusing on not staring at those red red lips, and sure enough Rosalie had just turned the corner into our intimate hallway, rapidly punching the buttons of her Blackberry.

He pitched his voice low, still watching Rosalie, answering the question I'd never voiced. "We're not some secret magic society. Lauren had your number. "

I nodded, wondering why in the world he had to be the one person who could read my mind.

* * *

It felt weird, being on a mission in a place that bored me to tears every day that I was there.

I had to find Angela.

And I couldn't just fucking text her.

I walked into the cafeteria ten minutes after the start of lunch, hoping everyone was already there so I wouldn't awkwardly be waiting for her like a stalker.

I shuffled up to my own table like the outcast I was, bee lining it to where Angela was sitting, near the end of the bench, ignoring the tilt of Alice's chin and how it couldn't have possibly gone any higher.

She spoke loudly to Mike about the importance of teen pop star idols while her eyes stayed on me. I didn't have to look at her to know, I just felt it. Kind of like how I knew Mike wasn't listening to a word she was saying but rather staring at my ass.

An ass not at all visible through the baggy straight leg jeans I seemed to live in.

Charlie had tried to take me shopping for Christmas, on top of the vintage edition of _The Prince_ and a crocheted beanie. I remembered taking my gifts back up to my room, reverently caressing each item and going back to where Charlie was boiling water in the kitchen, the air smelling faintly of mint and pine and snow, and telling him that it was enough.

Plus, who needed new clothes?

Ba humbug, indeed.

I sidled in next to Angela as she turned to me, surprise clearly etched along the soft lines of her face. God, she was pretty.

I felt like I was seeing her for the first time. It wasn't the make-up (she wasn't wearing any), it wasn't the simple ponytail or her slender nose or the gentle slope of her eyebrows. There was just this genuine, beguiling disposition that she possessed and it was…beautiful.

Stunning.

I'd never even let myself see it.

I started to speak while she smiled, tentatively, encouragingly, at me. _You are so good, _I thought. _How can you stand us all?_

"Hi. How are you?" I stuttered out awkwardly, trying to remember all the things Charlie taught me about etiquette.

"I'm doing well, thank you," she murmured quietly, sensing the significance of the conversation as well as the many listening ears.

_You are too good for this world, _I attempted to tell her with my eyes.

"I just wanted to ask if you would like to hang out Friday night and I know this is weird but my dad kind of made me…oh shit. Look I just--"

She grabbed my phone from my fidgeting hands, "Here's my number, call me when you want to come over. I have plans for early evening and I don't know how long they will go until," her eyes darted quickly over to Ben, then back to mine, "but I know you do too, so whenever you feel like _hanging out_, just text me or whatever. My parents are gone for the weekend."

I wanted to hug her. And I don't hug people.

I was stunned by her perceptive, straightforward kindness. "Uh yeah, sure. Thanks."

I made the move to go. She gently grabbed my elbow, "you want to eat with us today?"

I glanced over at Alice, catching her eyes right before she quickly looked away, "um, I actually have to go…" I looked back down at Angela's pure, pure face. "Yes, I would love to sit here. Just let me go get something to drink."

"They're serving nachos today," she interjected, pinning me with her knowing, sincere gaze, "and they actually don't taste too bad."

_Okay, _I thought, resigned because she was just so right.

I nodded my head, wishing people could just see and believe and be true without masks or cowardly facades. Wishing I could be like her.

For Charlie. For Renee. For someone.

* * *

I did end up googling the fucking address. Those damn bastards.

I called Charlie and told him I was spending the night at Angela's. He sounded happy.

I was staring at my laptop in an empty house, listening to cars drive by and suddenly the silence was overpowering.

It was so loud that it burned and rang in my ears.

Right when I thought I would go mad, the doorbell rang. I looked toward my door in perplexity, feeling like I was only doing that because I wished someone was watching my pitiful life like some home video.

As soon as I opened the door and saw his broad shoulders and his spiky hair and those dark dark eyes, I felt like I could breathe.

Before I could react, he pulled me into his arms, his warmth such a stark contrast to my shivering skin, and mumbled sorry over and over into my hair.

When he finally let go, he appraised me in all my hobo-esque glory. "Why are you so cold?"

I rolled my eyes, leading him inside, up the stairs, and into my room. "It fits you," he said, surveying the mess of a room around him. I hastily shoved a bra under my bed with my toe.

He focused back on me, and I took the time to appraise him. Jeans, a white button up with an untied tie hanging around his neck, and converse. He looked, well pretty damn good. "You look nice."

He shrugged, "I have a previous engagement later."

"Oh?"

"It's just a date, I'm taking this girl out to dinner, nothing big."

Huh. "She better appreciate how amazing you are."

He stared at me, watching how I responded. "She's just a friend of the family, my mom's kind of been nagging me about it."

"Oh. Well, doesn't mean you can't have fun."

"No, Bella, that's your job." He snickered to himself. "Which is really in itself a feat not easily accomplished."

I squinted at him, snapping my fingers to get his attention, "I don't have the brain capacity to try and decipher what that is supposed to mean so speak plain English please."

He sprawled himself comfortably across my bed, his legs hanging off the end. "So, why are you here?" I finally asked.

"I came to apologize…what I did, was inexcusable and I'm so sorry for acting like that. I just kind of blew up."

I looked at him, confused.

He was fiddling with my slinky, not looking at me. "You just scare the hell out of me sometimes, Bellsa."

I picked at the drawstring of my sweats. "Stop."

"No, god, Bell, I just meant--"

"Don't!" I shouted at him. "Just please, don't ruin this. I know it, I've heard it all. Don't try to tell me what's wrong with me or how you can fix it…just don't do that to me, okay?"

He sighed. "Okay."

He looked back up at me. "Tell me that's not what you're wearing to the party."

"Shut the fuck up."

He laughed then and I breathed and asked how he thought he could be of assistance in this kind of situation.

"My mom always had this thing…like, she had to have that perfect outfit whenever she went in public…not in like a superfluous way, just in a no-nonsense, 'one must always look their best' kind of way. And she recruited me for her little project which actually turned into a full-blown clothes store and ever since then…she always asks my opinion on things…" He scratched his arm, looking bashful, avoiding my eyes, "and so it was like survival of the fittest, you know, develop a sense of style or whatever or get out …so I can help you more than you think…and it's not stupid or weird it's just what I grew up with and--"

"You're cute when you ramble, you know that?" I cut in tenderly, finding his bumbling endearing.

The moment his eyes shot up to mine, burning black, I regretted those words ever leaving my mouth. He moved up from the bed, stalking toward me, his face deadly serious and his eyes scorching and hot and never leaving mine as he got closer and closer and

Oh fuck.

My back hit the door of my closet and I discovered that I couldn't back up any further.

"You think I'm _cute_?" His mouth twisted at the word, his eyes still drilling holes into mine and he was too close and getting nearer and nearer until his face and those eyes were right in front of mine.

"I mean, you're a very strong, manly male with…masculinity and--" I gasped when I felt his warm breath exhaled down the skin of my neck.

"I…uh, think a line was crossed somewhere," I said shakily, trying to regain control despite the fact that his arms were braced against the closet door behind me and that his body was so close I could feel the heat radiating from it.

"Puppies are cute, babies are cute, fucking ladybugs are cute," he whispered huskily into my ear, his nose gliding down my jaw before trailing the column of my neck.

I tried to pretend that I wasn't panting. This was _Jake_.

"You sure you think I'm cute?" He murmured against my collar bone, his lip ring slippery and cold across my flushed skin.

"Uh, what?" I exhaled, trying to figure out what he was asking through the haze of delicious cold and startling heat and leather and black fire.

And then it was gone. His face pulled back up to eye level, and I could see him grinning madly at me, crowing "I rest my case" before rearranging himself back onto my bed like the smug bastard he was.

My hand was gripping the door knob and my knees were shaking and my neck was still tingling. "Asshole."

He chuckled darkly, looking very pleased with himself. I harrumphed at him before making myself open the closet and stare at my clothes and try not to think about what just happened.

Jacob, the cocky son of a bitch, disproved my first two outfits--jeans and a flannel, jeans and a hoodie--with a simple "no" while I asked the wall what the fuck he knew about what to wear to a goddamn party.

Grabbing a Charlie's old Forks PD sweatshirt and throwing it on over my cheap bra and cotton boy shorts, I stomped back out, huffing, "this is stupid, it's just a party, who the fuck ever stresses out about what to wear to _a fucking high school party_?"

He looked up at me, his eyes lingering on my legs. Whoops.

"Try for something more fun…like loose, I don't know…come on, you can do this, I know you can." He was goading me, and I snorted at him. "It better not be fucking jeans that's all I'm asking."

"I don't know how to do fun, you moron," I said turning back to my hopeless wardrobe but not before catching a look that said he begged to differ with the statement.

I tried not to think about it.

I grabbed some tights, a beater, one of Charlie's old flannels, and some kick-ass boots Alice had gotten for me last Christmas. They were still in the box.

I shoved them all on, grumbling to myself. I felt like such a tool.

I opened the door and walked out. "I'm not fucking changing again. So, take it or leave it."

I finally made myself look toward the bed when he didn't respond right away. He shook his head, then returned his gaze to my face. "Perfect."

"Psssh. I don't know about perfect, but it'll do."

"Hair?" He asked.

"Who the fuck are you, my stylist?"

He raised an eyebrow ironically at me. "Where's that little tyrant when you need her?"

I blanched. "Alice has better things to do than try and make me look pretty."

He paused, scrutinizing me while I stared out my window. "It's her loss, right?"

"Right," I said, laughing weakly and trying to smile.

I slabbed on some make-up just to cover up my droopy eyes and left my hair hanging, straight and thick around my face so I could hide behind it if need be. Jacob busied himself with reading Shakespeare sonnets in between chortles. He'd snagged it from my hopelessly lacking bookshelf.

Bastard.

"I'm dropping you off." He said nonchalantly, getting up from his perch on my desk.

"What? Why?" I asked incredulously.

"Don't ask stupid questions. Just call me when you're ready to leave the shindig. Or if you feel uncomfortable or some douche tries to get in your pants or if you just want to go home, call me. Okay?"

"I'm a big girl Jake, I can take care of myself." I said indignantly.

"Bellsa, this is important. Don't get too fucked up, I don't trust anyone at that party. You've drunk…" he let the question hang.

"Jesus, yes. I've got this, really. You don't have to--"

He was already shaking his head at me. "No deal, just let me do this. Now come on, we're going to be late."

I smacked his shoulder. "There's no such thing, you idiot."

"I have something for you," he said, turning around to face me as he opened the front door.

"Oh?"

He reached into his pocket, pulling out what appeared to be a pair of fingerless gloves. He handed them to me, kicking his shoe against the ground.

"Wow, Jake. Thanks."

"Some blonde chick wanted to know what I thought when I rang them up for her. I thought of you. They're hot."

I pulled the leather gloves over my fingers. "Poor girl, what did you say to convince her not get them?"

"I told her they looked too hardcore, rocker-chick for her. That she might as well invest in some combat boots while she was at it."

"Ouch. Did she run away screaming?"

He smiled widely at me. "Just about."

I flexed my fingers. "They make me feel like I can kick some hardcore ass."

His finger brushed along my covered knuckles.

Something he said finally registered. "Hey. I'm not a hardcore rocker-chick."

He stilled. "No. You're you."

I called my dad and told him Angela was picking me up so he shouldn't be surprised to see my car in the driveway when he got home.

I locked my front door and realized that I'd just lied to my dad. I didn't feel bad about it.

I was giddy.

Wasn't that what all teenagers did?

Maybe there was something to be said about rebellion and fights and slamming doors.

Is it so terrible to just say _fuck it all_?

* * *

**Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. As you may see, all my faithful, loverly readers, this is not the party scene. Bella wouldn't let me write that scene unless all this was said…so I know you guys were all looking forward to that scene. But it is coming, I promise. And it will be worth the wait.**

**Thank you again for reading. Reviews are very much appreciated. Cherished. Adored. You get the idea. **


	16. Debauchery

**Happy New Year! Sorry this took so damn long. You all are so wonderful for ticking with this and not bitching at me for taking forever to update. **

**This one goes to sah0004 and La Strana Musica…my super bad ass pimpage experts. Thanks for all you guys did to get this fic more readers. **

**And to all you new readers, well. Enjoy. Your reviews and dedication to this fic make me feel loved. So thank you. **

* * *

This was going to be different.

Maybe if I thought something in my life was going to change, maybe then it just would.

I'd shut my eyes and chant over and over so something would shift, some fate, some _pop _in the universe would just alter its course and it would be different.

I would wake up and be new and older and me and just _know _that I made it. That I was past all the immaturity, the stupid, frustrating confusion, the obsession with what people think and why I burn and why I just feel lost all the time.

And I would finally feel like I had caught up with myself. No longer chasing after something, a shadow, reaching and fumbling and grasping blindly.

"Stop muttering to yourself," Jake broke into my reverie. "It's not healthy."

I studied the car window, wishing it would just fucking rain when I wanted it to.

I heard the crinkle of paper and I felt something shoved in my lap. "You don't need this?"

"Nah, I know where it is."

"How?" I watched his fingers clench the steering wheel at the sound of my shaky question.

"Everyone knows where the Hales live."

I had forgotten that I stopped paying attention to things like that when I was able to drive and think independently and all that other shit people love about turning sixteen.

"Oh." I breathed out, embarrassed. "And the Hales are like…"

He turned to me, his eyebrows raised but his eyes cautious. "Mr. Hale's this big entrepreneur tycoon slash asshole businessman who's basically the only reason why we have a museum and a movie theatre and that cute little downtown area where I work." He smirked bitterly, "hell, he's probably also the reason we have infomercials."

I looked up, noting the tightening of his voice, "And the mom?"

His lips pinched and his face hardened. "She's the like, sidekick or something, she sometimes handles his deals when he's away, but she's also supposed to be like the ultimate homemaker…they always feature her in those stupid Martha Stewart type magazines…and I heard that she's some spokesperson for like America's Best Mom or some shit like that."

I stared down at my clenched fists feeling completely disconnected and _oh fuck. _

"How do you know all this?" I asked even though I really didn't care.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "My mom's had some issues with them."

I didn't push. Things were starting to make sense.

He pulled up to the curb and we were there and the motherfucking sidewalk looked more polished than my bedroom floor. I felt so stupid.

Little.

I had no idea what I was doing.

I could hear music pumping and girls laughing and Jacob getting out of the car to open my door and I didn't know what the fuck I was doing.

Who was I to get involved?

"Hey."

I turned to the pretty boy next to me, letting my legs just hang off the side while he braced the door open and just watched me, all smart and perceptive and knowing.

"Second thoughts?" He stepped closer, warmth and comfort just standing there between my knobby knees, waiting for me to fucking make up my mind.

I thought of Edward and how cold he seemed, how that one morning a lifetime ago, he had kissed me and those freezing lips were too hot against mine and how everything burned when he touched me.

" 'Doing all the little tricky things it takes to grow up, step by step, into an anxious and unsettling world.' " The words slipped from my mouth, escaping and twirling into the cold air.

I felt his soft, gentle hands cup my face, not letting my eyes wander from his serious gaze. "Please," he begged. "Please don't ever change."

I stared at him in confusion, the whispered words leaving without my permission. "How can I change, Jake, when I don't even know who I am?"

"Don't you think," he whispered back, one thumb brushing across my cheek, his hands still framing my face, "asking that question just means you do know?"

And my eyes started burning and my nose started tingling in that painful way it does when I'm trying really hard not to cry.

His thumb traveled up to brush my eyelids, soothing and warm against the biting cold. I felt his lips touch my forehead and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to shake or tremble or break whatever this was.

And then he grabbed my hand and my head sort of lolled to the side, missing the strong hands it had, mere seconds ago, been embraced by. He pulled me up and walked me around his car and made sure I had my phone and looked like he wanted to say something.

"I'll be fine." I said, lying through my terribly forced smile.

I watched Jacob fidget with his door handle.

"Call me," he said tersely, before getting into his car without looking at me.

I took a deep breath and turned, squared my shoulders and tried not to gawk at the freaking castle that was Rosalie Hale's house. It was one of those big, overpowering fairytale-like mansion's with an iron gate that isn't meant to keep people out, but rather to make a statement.

_I'm rich and I can afford it all and you can't even dress yourself properly. _

It was bright and glowing and alive for all the wrong reasons. There were too many windows, a winding pathway that looked too long and a fucking porch swing gracing the front. Which was cute and homey, until I realized the porch went around the entire house. Just because, how can you have a porch swing and not have a full porch?

Pah. I just wanted a house with a red door and a white picket fence and those little wind chimes that tinkle in the breeze. Oh, and a tire swing.

_What secrets do you hold? _I asked the palace.

I walked through the pretentious gates fearing that they would close in behind me, tugging my shirt closer to my body to fight off the chill that crept up my spine. I could feel the castle shaking, mocking and laughing at me.

The front door was closed and I suppressed the urge to just open it and walk through like I owned the damn place.

I heard loud, obnoxious laughter and that typical, roaring hullabaloo sound of a party and wished someone would spare me the humiliation of having to ring the fucking doorbell. I was scared shitless the doorbell would trill Beethoven's 5th Symphony.

Thankfully, someone opened the door clumsily and stumbled past me. I heard the distinct sound of barf hitting bushes and felt bad for whoever had to clean all this shit up tomorrow morning.

And then I laughed because this fucking house deserved to be trashed. It just looked like it needed to be broken in, to be lived in.

I blinked through the haze of smoke and sweat and moving bodies, hesitant to step inside this hungry-looking abode. I hadn't even ventured past the door frame and the music was already too loud.

_Hell._

Three steps later, I was confronted by the one person I had not wanted to see tonight. I was unaware of her presence, taking in the high ceilings, the huge-ass flat screen and the mass of people that showed off just how fucking huge the living room was. That is until someone poked their sharp little finger into my shoulder. I was met by blond hair and smeared mascara.

I smacked her hand away. "Wasted already, Lauren?"

She swayed to the side. "You. You are very lucky to be here, you know that?" Her words slurred so much I wanted to snigger haughtily.

"Oh my god, because they have open bar?" I responded sarcastically.

She looked confused. I didn't pity her.

"It's a fucking party. Look, they even have an endless supply of those little red cups to prove it." I continued when she didn't laugh at my joke, scanning the room.

"I don't think you understand, Bella." She continued, her voice slow and mashed together, "but me and Jasper are great and you don't…you don't have the right to come in here and take my place."

I looked down just in time to see her head coming forward a bit, her body flimsy and unbalanced. I stuck my hand up to catch her forehead from coming into contact with my chin, before happily pushing it back. "I don't want to take your place."

She stumbled backwards and I turned to find some better way to waste my time. And then an arm came around my shoulders and I was encompassed by smoke and leather and the enticing scent of good booze.

"Bella, Bella, Bella, whatever are we going to do with you? Seems like you're always gettin' yourself into some kind of trouble."

I looked up, letting myself appreciate his good-natured, lazy smile. "Oh I wouldn't call that trouble."

His sleepy eyes bore into mine. "Baby, I wasn't referring to that poor girl on the floor."

I hated that he could be so cryptic when I could smell the alcohol on his breath. "That poor girl is your girlfriend."

Jasper tugged at something behind him, while shrugging his shoulders, his damn locks falling forward over his eyes. "Eh. We'll see."

He brandished a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels and handed it to me. "Thank fucking God," I muttered, swiping it and taking a huge swig.

"Yeah," he said when I swallowed, staring at my mouth, "it's all yours."

I took another drink so I could stop feeling bad that he was supposed to be taken and that I couldn't under any circumstances think of him as attractive. I focused on the burn in my throat and the ratty vest he was wearing over a thin white shirt.

His eyes watched me underneath those long dark eyelashes and I looked up and the room was fuzzy and I felt better and he was saying something about me not talking a lot and how he really fucking digged that while I stared past his ear.

"Okay," I smiled at him. Gulping some more.

"Oh shit, I almost forgot. Look, can you just hang tight for two seconds? I gotta go get someone, I'll be right back. Don't you go wandering off." He grinned that languid, slow grin while I wiggled two fingers at him.

_Thank fucking God. _

I looked around the room and the clusterfuck of people flailing about, a bit giddy now, and thought to myself, who the fuck even needs a party? I looked down at the swishing liquid in my hand and said, "You and me, pal. We _are _the fucking party."

And I chuckled because I was talking to an inanimate object. And that's all it took to make me happy.

I felt behind me, scooting backward until my bum hit a wall. Bracing myself against it, I watched the show, rubbing the tip of the bottle against my smirk.

I thought about the double edged sword of being "in". I wondered what it all mattered. Why it was something you wanted in the middle of the day, to have people looking at you, being in awe/envy with you, laughing with you, when at the end of the day it didn't even matter that you could say hi to everyone you passed in the hall.

I thought about susceptibility and vulnerability and all those other -itily words and then.

I thought about how it was all so _stupid. _

"Stupid," I sneered into the next guzzle.

Someone appeared in front of me out of thin air. It was a boy-man, looking too old for his real age, looking like he'd just escaped the clutches of death, Indiana Jones style. And he was looking at me…weirdly. And it was just awkward because he wasn't close enough to be having a conversation but he wasn't exactly in the distance either.

I watched him stare at me and chastised myself for not being more freaked out than I was. "May I help you?"

His eyes snapped up to my face too fast and he was walking closer and I wanted to shout at him to slow down. "I've never seen you around before."

His voice oozed, creeping along my spine. I tried to focus on his face--he was tall, intimidating--and his eyes were a little too close together but dangerous and slanted and he was somehow dirty handsome.

"This isn't really my crowd." I said.

His eyebrows lifted and his mouth shaped into an 'o' and I tried to pretend like I had better things to do but he was predatory and rugged and I was entranced by the thrill of his presence.

I tried to take another sip in order to make some space between us but he stayed there, so close I could make out the redness of his eyes. "But you're here, aren't you?"

I checked to make sure. "I was invited."

He leered at me. "I'm James." His name struck a chord I couldn't quite place. Which was frustrating because it sounded familiar and it was hanging there in front of me but I couldn't quite grasp it.

"Bella." I responded.

"What rock have you been hiding under? You're beautiful." He inched closer than I thought was possible.

"Yeah, I usually hide in the school bathroom during break and lunch because I don't like being around people. And I wear a paper bag over my face between classes so nobody will see me." I drawled, hugging my drink and wondering why I was acting snooty all of a sudden.

He laughed a thunderous sort of laugh, throwing his head back while my head spun out of focus. "You are going to make this night worthwhile, you know that? I just know it."

I wanted to warn him not to get too ahead of himself, that I was already out of one-liners, but he was already saying something else and I had to remember to pay attention to the ugly-hot boy in front of me.

"…say we have some fun?"

"Okay," I was saying before I thought about what I should've said instead of that word.

He glanced down at the bottle in my hands, contemplating, then grinned back up at me. His arm moved to go around my waist before I grabbed it and he just settled for holding my hand past the crowd in the living room, past a couple more various sitting rooms, through a kitchen, past an entertainment/billiard room, and out a screen door.

Outside, more kids were milling about. Some idiot got pushed in the Olympic-sized pool. A couple was making out against the tennis court fence. Yep. Typical high school party.

Only staged in like, Henry the V's palace.

James led me over to the side of the house, or maybe it was just more in the shadows. Because it seemed to me that this place was more a maze than a house, filled with some places that were darker than others.

There was a circle of people, some sitting, some standing, some leaning against the wall, murmuring softly and illuminated by the smoke and embers being passed around.

_Of course, _I said to Jack.

They all looked like they came walking out of some Beat poet café or some shit, with the pale, pretty faces and the black clothing. One douche was actually wearing a fucking beret. I almost expected them to start snapping and quoting Ginsberg.

And then I almost laughed because there were these cool cats…and then there was James.

And then dirty boy was introducing me and I was nodding my head and I finally realized what James had meant by fun.

I tried to remember the names they gave me, spoken eloquently from their perfectly pale lips, almost like they were above having to say them out loud. Felix was the one with the beret. Jane was the little one, who looked like a painted doll. And then Aro, with black hair as slick as his leather jacket, asked if I was down.

I almost snorted.

Another boy stepped up from the wall, out of the darkness, his pale face a stark contrast with his dark hair and his eyes the deepest, darkest indigo I'd ever seen. He was the same as all the others…only not. He quietly moved, glided really, toward me without offering his name and I felt James place his hand on my lower back and I almost hissed because who the fuck did he think he was?

But I didn't have to do anything because this guy had already seen it and was smirking at James before politely looking back at me. "I'm Demetri."

"Bella." I breathed, in awe of his otherworldly attractiveness. There was something about his face…those sapphire blue eyes. They were _old. _Ancient. Like they'd seen places and ideas and realms I'd never be able comprehend. I felt as if I was staring at an aged soul trapped in youth's body. It was the most fascinating thing.

He sort of smiled this shy little smile, his gaze skittering between mine and the ground. I took in his black shirt, worn black jeans, beat-up pair of nikes. He brought a cigarette up to his mouth, still looking at me, and asked if I wanted one.

"Oh fuck that shit," James cut in, putting his arm around my shoulders. "She wants _in. _Aro, what have ya got for me?"

And before I could tell blondie to speak for himself and angel eyes that yes, I would love a cigarette, and fucking James Dean to cool it, something happened.

"I see you've already met the alleged Bella Swan, stoner." A cold voice broke in past the smell and fuckery of teenage rebellion.

James and I both tensed at the voice. We both knew it. James' response was quicker. "Don't you have your own pussy to attend to?"

I didn't turn around and James' arm was still trying to prove a point to the world.

I watched Demetri's face morph from annoyance to rage before I realized that I probably should've been offended by the double entendre of James' comeback. "I need a smoke," I said to Demetri, needing to see those eyes, to see my reflection in them.

His eyes flashed back to mine, sensitive and missing nothing. He reached into his back pocket, his hand returning with an opened pack of Lucy Strikes.

I moved to grab one when--

"Bella doesn't smoke." And then he was just so there, glaring at James' arm around me and looking furious and twisted without a drink in his hands but with lowered brows and a stiff jaw and that crease in the middle of his forehead that told me more than it should have. I tried not to notice that his hair was everywhere and falling and lovely, that his damn hoodie was zipped up halfway and that underneath was bare chest and man and sex.

"Oh fuck you," I said because Demetri hadn't moved his hand or reacted to Edward or even acknowledged any conflict. I snatched one, sucking it in while Demetri demurely lit it, smiling that knowing, intelligent smile he made look downright seductive.

_He knows too many secrets, that one, _I thought to myself.

Edward glowered while I took that first drag. "Knock that shit off, dickweed," he growled, nodding his head at where James' slimy hand was resting.

I was pulling in air and smoke and looking at Demetri and trying not to look at Edward and thinking about Jacob and Bill the Pizza Guy and Rosalie Hale's mother and trying to understand whether or not I cared about anything. Anything at all.

And then something else happened…something I couldn't see but could feel. The mood shifted and Edward's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared and he looked like a time bomb just waiting to go off. He crouched forward, his fists tightening at his side but the whole time he was looking at James and Demetri was calmly observing, not bothering to move the cig from his mouth as smoke billowed all around us. I could feel James' arm tightening and then Edward was moving forward, aggression and fury festering in those too green eyes and I remember thinking that this could not end well. And I wasn't even drunk yet.

So fast I almost didn't catch it, Demetri smoothly grabbed his arm. As if not putting any effort into the movement, he lithely moved in front of me to face Edward.

I dragged in breaths and counted the stars in the smoke tainted sky while James whispered something in my ear.

Edward's eyes stayed on James while he spoke lowly to Demetri. "Stay out of this, Dem."

"She's not a part of _this_, Edward. Don't get her involved. Stop messing with her head. I'm warning you." He spoke back clear and threatening, low and away from me.

Edward's eyes flashed to mine and I think I shrugged and he stared back at Demetri, deliberating something. And then his gaze caught on the proximity of James' lips to my ear…and he was shoving Demetri away and shouldering his way over to me.

"Are you…done here?" he spoke through gritted teeth, staring at my forehead.

"I…"

James cut in again, thinking he could somehow answer for me. "Listen here, fucker, in case you haven't noticed, Bella's with me. She wants to have a good time and I'm gonna make sure she gets one."

I watched in awe as Edward's jaw did that thing I love and before I could so much as take another drink, James arm was gone and Edward's fist was out and swollen and I realized just how cold it was.

He grabbed my elbow and snorted at my drink and escorted me inside where it was warmer and brighter and louder. I looked over my shoulder and found Demetri's dark eyes. They were devoid of any emotion, just staring at me deeply…meaningful but without any specific meaning. Just staring with that damn cigarette still hanging from his lips.

"W-Who is that guy?" I asked my supposed copper-haired savior.

He continued dragging me. "Which one?" he said with a smirk that said tonight was not a good night.

"The one you didn't punch." I yelled over the techno beat. _God. _

He pulled me into a side hallway that seemed to appear out of thin air. It was dark and quieter and seemingly endless, with doorway sillouhettes lining the walls.

"His name's Demetri. He smokes too much." We kept walking down the yawning hall.

"So do you."

He stopped. His mouth twitched a little before pulling up into a half smile. He looked like a ghost…pale and seemingly smiling at something sadly funny with only the effort left inside a dead, dead body. "You've noticed."

It wasn't a question.

"Does he go to our school?" I attempted to wipe that lifeless expression off his face.

He laughed coldly. "Oh Bella, you've got a lot to learn." He inched toward me, backing me into a corner before I could even take notice and maneuver my way out. All I could think was that his eyes and that mouth and those shaggy pieces of hair springing out from his head…it was all so close and so _there _and I couldn't do anything because he made me feel and come alive and want everything that I thought I was above.

His arms reached out like a cage around me. "I've got you." He whispered.

I was trapped and he gave me the power to be a rebel and all of a sudden I didn't know what I wanted or why I was here.

My drink felt heavy. I needed another swig. I brought it to my lips and encountered Edward's thumb instead. "How drunk are you?"

He pulled the bottle out of my grasp and I was annoyed. "Seriously Edward, what do you want?"

"Too many things," he said vaguely, depositing my drink behind him before resuming his previous position.

I smelled cigarettes and alcohol and honey on his breath and I just couldn't do this. "You know what…god, I just can't do this with you anymore."

He lifted an eyebrow at me, smirking in that dead, cocky way he has. "We're…doing something?"

I pushed in vain at his arm so I could get the fuck away from him and his stupid, cold eyes and wished he wasn't so beautiful and captivating and deceptive. "God, you just can't _do _this to people. You just can't be everything and nothing and smile like you get it and be so cryptic all the time. You can't fucking say all this shit and act like you know something about me…about my life when you can't even take your own seriously enough to be _real_. You can't earn my trust and then smirk when you blow it all to pieces. And I'm so done with--"

"I want you." He said. Just like that. Without passion or fervor or lust. Another item on some list he had tacked on his refrigerator. A simple intention he wanted to make clear. Just like that.

I gaped at him and willed him to make the damn statement _mean _something while he shrugged his shoulders at me. _It is what it is._

"No." I said tugging on his arm so it would just fucking get outta my way.

He snorted, rolling his eyes at me.

"Just fuck you and fuck everything else. Your whole fucking life's a joke and I'm sick of giving a damn about it. Just leave me alo--"

"Shut up, Bella," he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, his eyes serious and burning, "stop trying to act like you don't want me too."

I tried to ignore the stabbing in my gut, the way my stomach seemed to be crawling its way up my throat. "You can't always get what you want, you son of a bitch." I spit at him before finally ducking underneath his arm and getting away from the monster I decided to fall in love with.

I felt a hand grab my hip before I was whirled back around, up against the wall while another splayed flat across my stomach, holding me down. "I always get what I want."

And his lips were on mine.

And it wasn't surprising or shaky or even romantic. It was just sort of in-your-face. Literally.

It wasn't opened-mouthed or tongue or heated desire. It was insistent--his warm mouth covering mine, claiming me. He made it so easy, so tempting to forget everything else, his warmth enveloping me, his fervor entrancing me into wanting this. This, _right here. _This simple pressing of mouths, this intimate contact that made me feel safe…like I couldn't ever need anything more than that.

His hand moved to grip my hair and he was holding me down to keep me here, just like I needed.

It just was…and is….and I didn't need to do anything and I just _wished _this was right.

I pushed his mouth and jaw and green eyes away and bit back a groan. "Stop."

His thumb tapped my hipbone while his other hand held my face before I could turn away too. His face hardened, his gaze scorching mine and I couldn't breathe or look away or say no again. He looked so fierce and impassioned and strong and

"Why do you want this?"

I couldn't ignore the places where his voice broke, a whispery ghost of it cutting in where he cut out.

And he was fucking searching and wondering and asking and I just couldn't…again.

"I don't know."

His finger traced my lips as he stared at me without really seeing me. "But you want in."

I knew I was losing him because it wasn't a question.

"Yeah." he whispered for me. And when he shifted to pick up my discarded bottle, I didn't feel better. I didn't feel my vision clear or my mind begin to function properly or my heart slow down. It just felt all wrong and not okay and he couldn't be the one to change that.

Even though I needed him to…he couldn't be my savior.

Stupid red brown hair handed me back my drink before tugging my arm. "Let's go."

He wouldn't even look at me.

I followed his back down a myriad of twists and turns while he stopped patiently when I had the violent urge to take another sip along the way.

And then we stopped in front of an ominous looking door. Ominous because there was light streaming through underneath it while the hallway around us was shrouded in darkness and muted noise.

I watched his shoulders kind of sag before I heard him sigh and run those blasted hands through his hair, pulling as he did so.

He opened the door, letting me pass through before he followed me, closing it behind him.

And then I was attacked by the onslaught of pink and white and all the stereotypes I hated about teenage girls.

I saw blond hair and sparkly tube dress and high heels and blue eyes that were eyeing me with half lids and a scheming smile gracing her face.

She was sitting upright on her bed.

Waiting for me.

Somewhere behind me Edward was moving around and shifting something and then

"She passed."

And then he snickered coldly, sarcastically. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a frustrated laugh, a huff of breath that said _I give up, I can't do this, this isn't funny. _

But I didn't know better.

Rosalie smiled at me and gosh I couldn't remember the last time she looked like that and I wanted to be happy for her and ask her if her mother really loved her but all I kept thinking was that it wasn't funny.

That how could I pass if I wasn't even aware there was a test to begin with?

And as I stood in that godforsaken room filled with snickers and lace and covered up secrets…I kept thinking that perfect and rich and beauty had two sides.

One that gleams and entices its viewers.

And one that snickers behind your back.

* * *

**Gah, I know. But I HAD to split this chapter into two parts because it was simply too long and there's a whole other part that I feel would be best put in a second chapter. **

**Thank you all again for your support, your reviews, and your patience. **

**Okay, lovelies, you do what you so best! **

**Until the next update. **


	17. Unmasked

**I'd like to give a shout out to SiriuslyWyckedDream for catching the drift and tenor of this story before it has even begun completion. And a lovely, heartfelt thanks to all of you new reviewers for being so totally on the edge with last chapter that your impatience made me write faster. **

**And of course here's to sah0004 and la strana because let's face it, you guys rock. And they also got emibella to rec this story on ADF which is all kinds of fuckawesome. I must not forget the sah's twitter friends/underground fans…I know you're out there. **

**The song playing in the beginning is Ingrid Michaelson's **_**Keep Breathing. **_**I advise listening to it while reading. js. **

**Oh and if you guys haven't been doing this, view this in 1/2. **

* * *

The faint notes of music filled the background while Rosalie laughed a silly sort of laugh.

I stood there hurt and confused and wishing I'd just stayed home.

I stood there wishing Edward was more, like if I wished for it hard enough…it could just be.

"Edward, you act as if it was a test or something," Rosalie spoke lightly, still smiling that bewildering little smirk that was too feminine to be Edward's cocky one.

I continued to watch her sit straight on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped…just staring at the both of us.

And I was done with it. "What the fuck is going on, Rosalie?"

She continued to appraise me with her happily oblivious eyes. "See, Edward? That is what I love about her. There's something…I just admire how she doesn't take _shit _from people."

I wheeled around to face Edward for an explanation.

"She swears when she's high." He muttered around a cigarette, digging around in his pockets.

Rosalie continued as if Edward hadn't spoken. "I don't really know what to say…I mean, I can _trust _you."

I stared dumbly at her.

"She told me to kiss you," came a gravelly voice from behind me before I heard the click of a lighter.

I wasn't sure who to be angry at.

"There's no hope fore Edward," Rosalie carried on, giggling behind her hand. "I'm afraid he's just too angry all the time."

"Oh cut the bullshit, Rose," he said, but it was halfhearted…like he didn't even mean it.

And then it was like she heard him for the first time.

"Get out of my room, Edward." She said, her serious tone surprising me.

And he did. Leaving me alone and unbalanced and _used. _

"Don't you understand, Bella…that I had to do this?" Her fragile blue eyes pleaded with mine.

"Rosalie," I started, tired and numb and unable to just feel something, "I don't understand anything."

She got up and walked to her bedroom window. I soon realized that it connected to a goddamn balcony. I tapped my feet and swished what was left of my Daniels because my mind was blurry and I was cold and the damn song was on fucking repeat.

"If I could just make you see…or maybe you could make me see. I think we could…do something. Change something. Be something."

She faced away from me, still staring blindly out her window, looking over her vast backyard and I didn't know if she sounded wistful or hopeful or whatever.

I decided it was time for me to say something, to make a stand, to fucking piece my dignity back together or something. "Listen, I don't know what kind of conspiracy this is…or if this is some kind of sick joke. But god, I don't want this. I don't have answers. I thought I could help you but I can't fucking be your hero and pretend that all this _shit_," I flailed my arms around, "doesn't effect me."

She sighed, her body hunching over a bit with the weight of her words. "You're not my hero. But someone needs to know that things are _fucking _rough all over."

My mouth turned up at the reference. "Christ, you don't think I know that?" I asked incredulously.

"That's why. That day in class. You just knew. I can't explain it but you got it. And I just…when you have no one and you can't _do _anything…you just go crazy."

And I was speechless. Those were _my words. _And they were coming out of some beauty-pageant-winning rich girl, perfect valedictorian's mouth. People who were perfect and beautiful and Barbie didn't say words like that.

"I know. Fuck, do I know." And I did.

She turned back around to face me, her bony shoulders pointy and sharp in the shrouded light. "We all have our bruises don't we?"

And there were so many things I wanted to ask her and say and yell but right now, it was just us and the cruel reality of adolescence.

Of fighting.

And she was brimming with secrets and contradictions and lies and insecurity and hatred.

I took a deep breath and was me. "So I passed the fucking test. What's next? Streaking?"

She smiled and it didn't reach her melancholy glass eyes. "It's like I can see the world over the fence of my backyard, unwavering and existing while I sit here, on my flower bedspread, waiting to see what it really looks like." Her gaze slid to the floor. "And then I get so scared, so fucking terrified, because I see this house every day--I know every crack and hole in the ceiling--and nothing _changes. _And god, I look in the mirror and I can't see anything different…anything to prove that life is moving, that I'm getting aging or maturing…that I'm _living._"

I waited for her to look back up at me. "Yeah."

And I wasn't nervous because I wasn't smart or didn't have the right thing to say. I just let it go. "It's shit, isn't it?"

She blinked at me, a chuckle sneaking through her lips, before moving to her huge-ass stereo system and changing the song.

"You a Zeppelin fan?" she asked while I tried not to drop my drink in shock.

"Psssh. How dare you ask such a question." I responded, swaggering up to her dresser to take a closer look at the pictures of smiling, pretty teenage girls that lined her wall in perfect precision. "Fuck, do you even know all these people?"

"My mom makes it her job in life to catalogue every high acquaintance I've ever met." She responded without looking up. "Congratulations, you just passed the real test."

Her eyes laughed at me as guitar chords drowned out everything else.

It was something real.

I could hold on to it.

* * *

When I finally stumbled out of her room, I collided into something massive.

I looked up and was met my a slow, dimpled grin.

I dipped my head in greeting. "Emmett."

His lazy eyes held mine. "Bella."

And then I remembered something and suddenly, I wanted to know. I had a _right _to know. "What are you doing here?"

He raised his eyebrows and his expression immediately became blank, unreadable. "Let me tell you something, Bella," he started, drawing out my name, as if tasting each syllable. "You're new to this whole thing so I'll cut you some slack."

"This whole thing…" I inquired slowly.

He continued, taking me under his arm, gesturing around like some intelligent professor. "You see, here," he pointed to the floor, "we don't confront. We just gossip."

"Uh."

"I'm glad we had this talk," he said, patting my shoulder in a menacing sort of way. "Remember that from now on."

He guided me back down the hallway, the music growing louder. And something occurred to me. "Emmett, don't you ever want the truth?"

He stopped so abruptly that I felt like half of my body was yanked backward. He looked at me, something sober reappearing behind the glossy haze of his penetrating stare. His gaze hardened. "Truth…" he sneered at the word before barking out a harsh laugh. "The truth is that nobody fucking wants it."

_I want it. I need it. _

He picked up the pace again, pulling me forward with him, blue eyes looking straight ahead. "Makes for a more ferocious, cut-throat world, doncha think?"

But he wasn't asking me.

Emmett placed me back in the foyer, in the midst of loudness and people and humidity while he vanished back to wherever he appeared from.

But I was glad because he kind of scared me.

I surveyed my surroundings and felt a sense of annoying déjà vu, but with less people than before. Maybe it was getting late. I took another gracious sip and was a bit sad that it my bottle was getting less heavier.

People danced and drank and chugged and I couldn't recognize anyone because the lights were dark and just flashing all around me, making everyone look like blurry shadows.

Why did we want this? Why did Alice and Lauren and Jessica crave an invitation to _this_?

It didn't make sense to me. But I mean, I was here wasn't I? The room started swaying side to side and my head was feeling a bit tingly so I closed my eyes.

And I was thinking about Rose and Zeppelin and truth and deception and how I would never, ever be part of _this. _Whatever I was looking for…it wasn't in lying to my dad or smoking or acting stupid or testing people.

It wasn't in kissing or deception or gossip. I wanted someone to turn on the light already, exposing all the things, all the desires that pulled at me while I reached blindly for anything, alone and searching in pitch-black darkness.

My thoughts muddled and pooled together and I just couldn't think anymore because it hurt and why did everything have to hurt?

"You look swell," a deep, cultured voice sidled up next to me.

"Ha." I responded, opening one eye to confirm my suspicions.

He tapped my almost empty bottle. "It's all a matter of will, Belle." He leaned in to tap my temple next. "Don't give in to it. Chin up. You just gotta keep being."

And I smiled at him, a half-smile that I couldn't entirely feel. "You know, if you're looking for a replacement…Alice would keep you on your toes."

I watched his eyebrows knit together, his eyes clear, while he scratched the side of his jaw. "Don't I know it," he kind of muttered.

His eyes focused back on mine, the soft hazel of his gaze ringing straight and true. "There's a reason you're different. Don't forget that." He absentmindedly tugged my flannel and his disposition became serious, willing me to pay attention. "Edward needs different. Rosalie needs different. Fucking Forks needs different."

I opened both eyes wide. "Jasper, are you saying I can change the world?" I asked half buoyant, half mocking.

His mouth twitched and he came right back at me, his drawl making me quiver. "Oh you don't need the world to change shit, baby."

And I had no response because he was just so goddamn _right. _

He leaned in to kiss my cheek and he smelled like grass and Jack Daniels and god, just hope. "I'll call Alice sometime." He whispered before sticking his hands in his pockets and disappearing into smoke and crowd.

And just as I was about to turn around and attempt to find the front door so I could call Jake and get the fuck out of here, someone was blocking my way.

And when I saw those dark green eyes that were too shadowed, too tired, and that his hood was, in vain, hiding the sex hair that now covered his forehead, that was it.

"I'm leaving." I declared to his zipper with as much willpower and force I could muster up.

"Wait, god Bella, just wait."

"No." I stomped my foot and crossed my arms, empty jug and all.

"Would you just listen for a sec? I'm sorry about getting you involved in that. It was fucked up…but you have to understand--"

"I don't have to understand _shit, _Edward. Now move." I stepped to the side and he mirrored my movements, still fucking talking.

"Rosalie needs someone she can trust. I know she can trust you. And she just wanted to make sure…" he trailed off, his eyes drilling into me. "And fuck it, god Bella, I _wanted_ to kiss you."

Everything stopped moving. His shoulders moved up and down and I could hear his breathing and I didn't want to think about lies and truth and emerald fire anymore.

I had to get out. It was too hot and I couldn't fucking breathe. "Please let me go."

I looked up in time to see his face harden and his jaw clench in determination. "No, you can't run away from me all the time. You need to fucking face this."

And then I was pissed. "_This? _Why don't you fucking tell me what _this _is, Edward. Look, I care about Rosalie because she's wasting away inside…but this was never about you. So you're not allowed to shove your way into _my _life, confusing everything and just making everything so goddamn _complicated_."

He stalked closer, getting in my face and I couldn't let myself think about how beautiful he was when he was enraged, how his eyes scorched and burned and felt something. "That's a lie, Isabella, and you know it. You feel this too, and I wish I could…" he broke off.

I reached forward, tugging his hood off.

His eyes snapped toward mine, his breath fanning harshly against my face. "Everything I've lived is a lie…and you're so real. I can't stay away from you anymore because you're everything I wish I could be. You feel and touch and kiss," his gaze skittered to my lips, "with all of yourself."

"And when you smile," he continued in a whisper, "it's you and I feel _home._"

"I can't…" I murmured, shutting my eyes to keep him out because I just couldn't _do _this.

"I hate to break this up," a smooth voice cut in, "but I think Bella needs to get home."

I turned and was trapped by the keen stare of dark blue and mystery. Edward huffed in annoyance next to me. "I got it covered, Dem. You can go home now."

"I'll give her a ride," he answered not taking his eyes off me, stepping forward, lifting out his hand, the pale skin of his arm entrancing me. I looked up and noticed his black hair looked almost identical to Edward's, without trying. It wasn't gelled like Mike Newton's or crimped to one side, but messy and sexy and I-don't-give-a-fuck.

I watched Demetri's eyes finally shift toward Edward and I could see a silent conversation brewing, the kind only boys could have. Boys who knew how to read each other. Demetri gave a slight shake of his head before Edward leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. Only it was more the corner of my mouth and it made my heart beat faster and my breath come shorter, which wasn't supposed to happen.

_Why do you do this to me?_

"See you on Monday, Bella." He said, the smell of cigarettes and Old Spice burning my nostrils and prohibiting me from ever forgetting his scent.

And while I was dazed and blushing, Edward took my drink and Demetri took my hand and I was following the curious boy who looked too old but walked like he could tempt any girl who wasn't blind without even glancing at them.

And god sometimes I wished the world would stop moving and I could see clearly and everything could just make sense.

Really, what was truth in a world where people chose not to see it? Who refused to believe it? Where was the value in that?

I was a hypocrite then, because I ran from it too. I couldn't face it either. Because deep down, I was just like them.

So what was the point of being different? Of pretending?

_So many questions, _I thought to myself as I watched the enigmatic boy stop at the front door, looking to me to silently ask if I was ready.

I nodded my head and he opened the door and gestured for me to go first.

With his cold, white hand in mine, we escaped the belly of the beast, together.

* * *

**Okay, couple of things. Yes, I know my ANs are unbearably tedious. But. I just wanted to say. **

**I was unbelievably floored with the response to last chapter. Like, you guys are just so freaking amazing. I just want us all to get together and have a party and drink cheap bourbon and talk about how high school was not the best time of our lives. So I said all that to just say, I love you all for loving this story. I was just so in awe with you all. Still am, actually. **

**For those of you paying attention, did anyone catch where the reference was from? I will kiss anyone who gets it. Virtually of course. **

**Also, sah0004, who is super fucking awesome and talks me down all my personal cliffs and is always honest with me, designed a banner that I've just now got to posting to my profile. Go check it out, yo. **

**One more thing. I've gotten the chance to read/catch up on some fics over break and I just wanted to recommend a few. **

Dear Isabella a collab between wtvoc and jandco

Suicide King by RacketGhost

My Little Black Ache by istandcorrected

Purgatory: A Love Story by americnxidiot

The Price of Permanence by Pastiche Pen

**Just sharing the love. Now. You know what to do. **


	18. Vitality

**Okay, so this is going to be an informative note before the chapter. Because a lot of people were a bit confused, which is to be expected. **

**There are some questions I will answer and some I will not. As you may have noticed, the pacing of this story is based on Bella and what's she going through. The point is that she doesn't know all of what's going on, but things will slowly be revealed with each chapter. It's just a matter of waiting for all the pieces to fall together. But when did anything make complete sense when you were young? Sorry, back to business. **

**Edward and Rosalie are dating. They are still a couple. Rosalie--under some unknown circumstance--asked Edward to kiss Bella. Make of that what you will. Edward saw right through it, he knew it was a test. All the other questions should be answered by the, dare I say it, end of the story. **

**I'm sorry for such a long intro to this chapter, but I also would like to thank all of you for your lovely reviews and for asking these questions. **

**Here La Strana Musica, this one's for you. Because you have dibs. And also, to all you college students, here's to more all-nighters, bleeding coffee, and getting kicked out of the library. Once again, all you readers amaze me. **

**Endless love to sah for her unconditional support despite the fact that she's the banner queen and going to be famous someday. **

**Not mine. **

* * *

"He was happy to tell my mother about it, for his happiness was due to the intoxication which causes the world to forget you, its Creator, and to love the things you have created instead of loving you, because the world is drunk with the invisible wine of its own perverted, earthbound will."

_--Confessions_, Saint Augustine

* * *

It should be known…that I do not sit in the front row.

Ever.

I wasn't one of those kids who bee lined it to those coveted seats on the first day of class, who made it their job in life to have the most participation points, who dressed their best every morning because they knew the teacher would see them, because they had to represent the scholarly in a sadly disappointing student body.

I wasn't entirely sure if this was a good or bad thing.

I hated that row.

I always made my way to the back, slouching in my seat, and counting the minutes until it was over.

I remember this one time, a prestigious Ph.D. rolling, "great students are great learners" pushing professor came strolling through our pitiful town. He visited our school like he was the president, pretending to be grateful to have the honor of speaking to our class.

And he looked right at me, the queen of the last row, and said, "You can always pick out the ones who will succeed. They sit right _here_."

He pointed his meaty finger at the front. "Those ones are the ones who do well in my classes. You pick 'em out because they choose to sit there from day one."

He glared at me, his wrinkled face looking like it could somehow cave in on itself. His beady eyes black and self-righteous behind his pointed glasses.

I smiled and nodded at him in agreement with his conclusion to Success 101.

And from then on I always made it a point to grab the farthest, darkest seat of the classroom. Maybe it was just to spite him. Maybe it wasn't.

I always wondered though, if I sat in the back row for the rest of my high school career…_would _I ever succeed?

I didn't want success in a big money, big career, famous kind of way. I wanted success I could feel…success that I could see and know and live.

I think…I just wanted to be complete. Someday.

* * *

Demetri's hand held on tighter to mine when I had trouble getting down the stairs of the front porch. I remember there being a lot less when I came.

We weaved through the mass of parked cars, the streetlight shining off of shining cars and I stared up at the mystery boy next to me.

He looked like an apparition, his midnight eyes sharp and his face rigid planes, his side profile striking in the misty light. The sidewalk sounded loud with my slapping footsteps and I struggled against the urge to lean on his shoulder.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked.

We kept walking. He peered down at me, chuckling to himself. He opened a glossy car door and I realized we were there, and this was his car.

"Holy fuck." I glanced up at him, wondering if this was real. "Is this a Mustang?"

He ducked his head, "It's a '67 Shelby."

I gaped at this shiny…toy.

He placed a hand at the small of my back. "Please just get in."

I crawled in and situated myself on a leather seat and smelled cigarette smoke and cinnamon. He got in, started the car with a purr I had to listen for, and he was pulling out before I could even look back at the place we'd just left.

He kept studying me out the corner of his eye, smirking and muttering like some inside joke that was on me.

And then I felt something buzzing. Well, I heard it first. I blindly grabbed at the source, fiddling around with the pocket and feeling something hard vibrating somewhere in there. When I finally got it out, I held it up triumphantly and realized it was my phone.

I answered.

"_Fucking hell_, Bella. Where are you? I've been fucking calling you and you didn't pick up. Jesus, why _the fuck _didn't you answer your fucking phone…"

I pulled the phone away from my ear because it was too loud and he was shouting too fast and all I could make out were the cuss words. I waited until it was quiet, ignoring Demetri's snickers.

"Hello?" I tried again.

"Bella. Where are you?" He spoke slow this time, and I felt like a first grader.

"Um. I'm with Demetri?" I don't know why it came out sounding like a question but it did, and I looked to him for confirmation. He smiled and nodded his head.

"What the fuck kind of douche name is Demetri?" He was yelling again.

"Um." I looked to him again for help.

"Hastings," he said, smirking again and it was familiar.

"Hastings," I repeated into the phone.

There was a pause. "No shit?" He kind of uttered with a lot less tenacity than before.

Demetri's outstretched hand was suddenly in my face. "Let me talk to him."

I handed the phone over.

"I need directions to her house," he said squeezing the phone between his shoulder as he shifted gears. "No, I do not plan on taking advantage of her," he turned to grin mischievously at me, "isn't she the Chief's daughter?"

I snorted. They talked some more and I didn't pay attention because it was then that I realized Demetri drove really fast.

"All right. It was nice talking to you…" I heard a deep, growling voice on the other end. "Jacob."

He said something else and Demetri looked at me, calculating, chewing his top lip. "No, she's a bit tied up at the moment. I'm sure she'll call you tomorrow."

I heard loud curses in the background before he ended the call. He chuckled again and I marveled at this enigma beside me.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

He squinted his eye at me as he turned and asked, "That your boyfriend?"

"No." I stuttered out, caught off guard. "That's just…Jake. Sorry about that. He doesn't normally yell so much."

He laughed, his eyes back on the road, "I imagine so."

I leaned against the cold glass of the window. "You're Demetri Hastings."

He dipped his head. "I am."

"That supposed to mean something?"

He balanced the steering wheel with his knee while searching through his pockets, brandishing a cig and lighter. "I can see why Edward likes you."

I stilled.

"Edward is with _Rosalie_," I said because shit like _this_, frustrated me.

"How much do you know about them?" He blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth, lowering the window.

"I know that they're dating."

"Yeah," he mumbled around the cigarette. He scratched his forehead, half covered by a mass of bed head. But it was sexy, panty-dropping, waking-up-from-sex bed head. But it was dark like night instead of brown auburn like fall leaves.

It was quiet before it began. And I couldn't even whisper to myself that there was no going back.

"It's this place, Bella," he spoke low, fire burning deep beneath the surface, "it's this fucking…town. These people live here, thrive here, start a family here, thinking they're successful, rich, _happy_," he scoffed at the word, "but god, this place turns them into monsters. They can't see anything, can't see that this town is sucking the life out of them--keeping them here. Because that's just it. You can't leave. You can't _not _come back. Why would you want to? You have everything here."

"I'm not sure…I don't know if I want to hear this…" I trailed off because this sounded…too big for me.

He turned to face me, the muscles in his forearm clenching as he shoved the stick shift, hard. "We all grew up together. I watched Edward smoke his first joint in eighth grade. Rosalie was happy--good and happy. Pretty." He smiled bitterly, his eyes holding so much _life _and _soul _in that moment.

I sucked in my breath and clenched the arm rest, my nails digging into shiny leather.

"Everyone knew," he muttered. "They didn't have a choice. God."

I watched him tip his head back, looking exhausted and burdened, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

His Adam's Apple bobbed up, then down, his voice coming out harsh, masking something deeper. "Edward always swore Forks would never fuck with him. Since his first speeding ticket, he was determined to see how far he could push the rules, stretch the limits. He promised himself that he wouldn't fall into this trap. This hell. That he wouldn't do what he was told. But it had already begun. I tried to tell him." He shook his head as if to shake the memory.

"Rose…and Edward?" I moaned quietly, but I don't think he heard.

"There was this one time…Edward got in a fight. Someone was talking shit about Rose, and Edward fucking broke the kid's nose. They called his parents, he went home, was suspended, blah blah blah. But when he came back…the fire…the rebel in him, was gone. He just…stopped. There was no more fight left. That was all."

He bit the inside of his cheek, hitting the gas harder, the car jerking forward. "Rose slowly started to realize…but it took her longer because she wanted to be happy. She thought she knew her happy ending, what she wanted. Edward tried to shield her. Keep her in this state of oblivion because hell, it was _Rose_. _Rose _who visited old people and walked dogs just for the sheer joy of doing it. _Rose _who laughed the loudest and who drew hearts and flowers all over her notebooks. _Rose _who wore bows in her hair and was just so goddamn _good _all the time."

His eyes darkened, his voice dangerously serious. "But when she did figure it out…she didn't become a robot. She just shut down. Gone. A ghost."

His fingers dangled over the steering wheel, his wrist resting over the top. "They're both blank and lifeless and their fucking parents won't ever notice. This town…is killing us. And nobody will open up their fucking eyes and accept what has been in front of their fucking noses this entire time."

"Ignorance is bliss," I whispered.

"Fuck that," he spat.

"Yeah."

It was silent.

"Just leave," I suggested, grasping at straws.

"Bella, you're not listening. I'm on the other side of the motherfucking country trying to get as far away as I can but I'm on break--I'm on _fucking _break--and here I am. It's like a reminder or some shit, any sort of freedom I have from school, any source of escape, _I spend here_. It's this constant thing looming over my head, haunting and mocking me, because it won't fucking _go away_."

His fist punched the wheel, punctuating each word.

"But--" I tried to interject.

"I can't leave, Bella. I'm just as much a part of this cycle as everyone else. My father, bastard that he is, has put his life into a business that has my name written all over it. His entire life, _my entire life, _is consumed with legacy and heritage and tradition and all those other words that adults use to disguise cage and trapped and _no fucking way out. _Can't you see…"

He looked at me, beseeching and it was so strong and I'd seen it somewhere before…that desperation.

He tugged frustratingly at his hair. "Edward said…"

"No, don't fucking tell me what Edward said," I cut in, confused and angry, "I don't need any more of this…this _shit._"

"Edward said that when he looks at you…he remembers what it felt like to want something more than all this," he rushed to get out. "That you don't pretend you have it all together, that you're okay with not knowing everything, that you're _real _and that you make it okay to just _be _and live by what feels right and _good_."

"God, just stop."

"You're someone who gets it, who has the balls to fucking say what they want to say…"

I turned away from him, watching my breath fog up the window glass. "I'm not any of that!" I screamed.

"Rose is baking again."

Objects whirled by and streets moved beneath the tires and the world was spinning and here I was, stranded and lost and unable to accept anyone putting any worth in me. I bit my lip to fight back a cry that strained the back of my throat.

"If you have such little confidence in yourself, why _the fuck _is Edward spending his nights at coffee shops and Rose smells like cookies?"

My stomach tightened and I stared at white knuckles.

"You don't know and I don't know and fuck if _any of us _ever just _know_, but hell. You, Bella Swan, whether you like it or not, are changing something. We're all growing up and just trying to fucking get out but you've given them a reason to be more, to be something other than what their parents say."

"Look at me," he spoke softly, his voice gentle and understanding.

I shifted, my gaze colliding with deep blue and warmth as he pulled to a smooth stop without ever taking his eyes off mine. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it before holding it to his lips. "I see it too," he breathed against my open palm.

"See what?" I whispered back breathlessly, surrounded by smoke and compassion and anguish.

"You're searching. You want answers and you won't be satisfied until you feel like you've made it. Until you're finally there and home and yourself. And you won't stop until you get there."

He pulled back, assessing me. "I see what Edward sees. And I'm jealous."

His mouth pulled up in a rather boyish grin. I was having trouble keeping up.

"You ever think that the shit that happens to you…makes who you are?" He looked forward, lost in thought. "Like your mom leaving like she did or my dad dreaming for me or Edward's dad beating him or Rosalie's mom being controlling…are all things that _become _us? That contribute to this whole shitfuck of growing up and getting somewhere?"

He exhaled slowly. "You are the way you are for a reason. Yes, there are coincidences. Yes, there's all that bullshit about fate and supernatural intervention and it being just One of Those Things. But here we are breathing and changing and thinking and possessing the potential for _something. _Isn't that reason enough to live--to just keep going and move, even if you have no idea where you're going?"

"What about you?" I asked mournfully, because he wasn't speaking for himself…he was speaking for me.

He whipped around, his eyes sharply catching mine, that all-knowing stare burning through me. "I'm Demetri Hastings, Economics major at Yale University, heir to Hastings Industries, hometown Forks, Washington."

"And that's all?"

He patted my knee, unable to meet my gaze. "That's all."

Demetri Hastings stepped out of his ostentatious excuse for a vehicle, opened my door and proceeded to escort me to a house that wasn't mine.

"Jacob told me to drop off at your friend Angela's house," he said, ringing the doorbell.

"Oh," I said, wanting to say so much more.

I peeked up at his face, all boy handsome and pale, blue eyes faraway but missing nothing, and kissed his cheek. "You're not trapped."

And he looked so _goddamn old_ in that second.

He stared at me, seeing everything. "You're worth it too," I murmured.

And he didn't say anything even though I needed him to say _something_.

Angela opened the door with a quiet politeness, sensing the fragility coating the air around us. "Hey, come on in."

I stepped forward, twisting back to catch those eyes that knew too much and that face that spoke of adolescence and transition. He tapped the side of his head. _Remember what I said. _

I nodded, smiling so he would smile back.

He walked away, pulling a cigarette out of thin air and dragging it against his lips with expert ease as he vanished into the darkness of night and unknown.

He didn't need street lights to show him where to go. He just needed to know he was alive…so he could keep going.

But how do you know, if you're alive?

How do you define being alive?

Is it having the ability to breathe…to see, to touch, to hear, to smell?

To love?

Or is it being happy and free and content?

Is it watching time pass with an awareness of days that came and days that went, without ever having the chance to hold on to them?

Is it hope and regret and past and future?

Or is it just present, just today, just _right now_?

We say sometimes, that we wish time would stop. That aging and wrinkles would freeze and everything would just be suspended, in limbo.

But I want to know…do we really want that?

* * *

**Um…so there may or may not be pictures of these characters that I may or may not have hounded down for a beloved reader who may or may not have asked for them. **

**They may or may not be fuckhot (cough Demetri cough) according to Sah and Fangtasia and La Strana…and I may or may not be willing to provide the links if you choose to ask for them. **

**Sah might call this bribery, but La Strana would prefer the term positive reinforcement.**

**Also, if you haven't yet seen 500 Days of Summer…I will shoot you. **


	19. Conversations

**Sorry about the wait, y'all. Computer issues. Thanks for not hating me. Just a warning…this one was hard for me. Sorry if it's a bit rocky. **

**Twilight is not mine. These characters are kind of mine. SM has rights to their names, I suppose. **

**I need coffee. **

* * *

"_Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape." _

--William S. Burroughs

* * *

I turned in a poem to my English teacher one time. It was during our poetry unit. I wrote it in class the day it was assigned. I think he was mad that I hadn't paid attention to his riveting lecture on haikus.

_I'm drowning in expectations and ambitions that aren't mine._

_I'm stuck in a world with boundaries and institutions._

_I'm moving in a direction away from home._

_I can't look back._

_Pity the fool, life tells me. Pity those beneath you, it whispers._

_Pity, pity, pity, it breathes._

_How can I pity, life, if I see myself in the eyes of everyone I pass?_

_How can I turn up my nose at my own reflection, scoffing as I watch myself waste away?_

_If only, if only, I whisper._

My teacher sent me to the counselor. I went home instead.

I Love Lucy reruns were on the television. I settled in, watching the light slowly fade outside the living room window, watching the darkness invade while Ricky laughed his merry little laugh.

* * *

After everything that had happened, after everything I now knew, I don't really know what I expected.

But it showed up at the end of my fourth period class, exhausted and pale, wearing Edward's shirt and tights, leaning against the wall.

I waited until everyone filed out behind me.

The blue of her eyes was lost in the purple circles beneath them. "I can't do this."

"Me neither. Let's get outta here."

I grabbed her hand.

* * *

"Thanks for doing this, Angela. Really, this is nice of you."

She threw some pajamas on the bed. "No problem. There's a new toothbrush in the drawer to the left."

She smiled politely at me. "How's Ben?" I asked.

She laughed. "He's great. We had fun. We went to the--"

"He's lucky, you know. You're…you're beautiful. Does he know that?"

Her eyes widened.

"I mean…I just…listen, forget I said anything."

Her face softened in understanding. "How'd it go?"

I exhaled slowly. "It's not really worth it, I think." I laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Like, at all."

"What isn't?"

I couldn't answer.

* * *

I pulled up to the diner Charlie always took me to whenever I overcooked the meat and the house smelled like burnt road kill.

"This is your idea of a getaway hideout?" Her cocky smirk reminded me of Edward's.

"Shut up and be nice. I happen to know the people who work here."

She snorted, opening the door. "You would."

"Keep it up, Hale. Keep it up."

I nodded at Sandy, showing two fingers and motioning to the booth in the back. She smiled a huge smile, red lipstick still smeared on that front tooth, like always.

Rosalie cringed as she slid along the ripped booth cushion while I laughed and plopped myself down. I picked up my menu. She fidgeted with the crinkled edges of hers.

"You don't have to do this, you know." She said from behind her curtain of hair.

"Rose, we're just going out to eat," I replied from behind my menu, "I'm not doing anything."

I flagged the waitress down.

"Ready to order?" She asked.

I nodded. "I'll take a chocolate shake and uh," I looked at Rosalie, waiting.

There was a beat of silence and Rose looked like a deer in headlights. It was arguably one of the best moments of my life.

"Strawberry!" She exclaimed looking embarrassed, her blue eyes flashing.

The old woman with the raspy voice wrote on her note pad and walked away and I just snickered because it was all just so goddamn funny.

"Stop laughing," she hissed at me.

I laughed harder. "You know, for a person who hates to eat, you're very…vicious."

She froze. "I don't hate eating." She said softly.

I stilled, my mouth curving ruefully at her. "I know."

She looked at me, seeking a common ground, and I got it.

"Edward hates it." She muttered, her eyes downcast, guilty.

I remained cautious. I wasn't sure if I could let myself think about him. Every time his face snuck its way into my head, the thought of his voice, his scorching gaze…the way his _lips_--well, I just wouldn't let myself.

"Why does he…is he aware of the whole…" I trailed off, twirling my index finger, "thing?"

She chuckled. "It's not a disease, Bella."

I flushed, out of my element, unsure of what to do.

"I mean, I'm not _anorexic _or anything…I just." She stopped, her forehead scrunched, her fingers tapping nervously against the surface of the table. "I don't know, I just stopped tasting food or whatever. It was so _tedious_ and I just started forgetting and I felt empowered because I didn't need to but then it wasn't such a bad thing because my mom _loved _having a daughter who was a size 2."

"And you're telling me…that no one _noticed_?" I sputtered out, incredulous.

She sighed, smiling sadly. "Edward did."

I felt her eyes observing me as they always did at this turn of subject. "But he didn't…"

The question hung, suspended in midair. I broke contact to stare at the swinging kitchen doors.

"Oh Bella," she whispered pitifully, so quietly I almost missed it. "That's a story I'll let him tell."

Our shakes arrived and I waited for her to take a sip before I gulped mine down.

"This," I said gleefully, "is going to blow your _freaking _mind."

She looked up, stirring her straw, "You are so _eccentric _sometimes."

I waved my hand at her, "You love it. Now stop stalling and please, humor me."

She gently placed her mouth over the straw, sipping daintily. I watched her eyes close involuntarily.

"Told ya," I said before slurping mine.

She moaned in return. I almost snorted the contents of my shake. "God Rose, you have so much to learn."

She flipped me off.

"Good girl," I said, nodding my head in approval.

She was taking baby steps, but. She was learning. It's a process--coming to grips with something you never asked for. Becoming someone you never wanted to be and wondering if you should even hope to escape something that isn't yours to escape. Hope and happiness are such foreign terms when all you've ever lived is somebody else's life. Because you have to hold onto it. Have to taste it, breathe it, smell it, touch it and feel something. It's instinctual.

Freedom is whatever you want. But I think sometimes…freedom is taking the hand offered to you, and getting off the ground. The hand may be a stranger's, may be a friend's, may be that homeless beggar living between Johnston and Roller but that's okay. Because you're back up and you have a reason to not let yourself fall again.

But I'm still learning too.

We all are.

* * *

Charlie came home late again.

He was hanging up his holster and gun in the closet behind the only two parkas we owned. I slid down the stair banister.

"Hi." I breathed.

He looked up, startled, his eyes tired. "Hi."

I tugged his chin, rubbing his rough cheek. "You need to shave."

"I know," he said, bending down to take off his boots.

I edged forward, kneeling to pull them off for him. His eyes thanked me. "Everything alright?" I asked.

"Yeah Bells, everything's fine. Had a lot of paperwork today…just tired."

"Mmm."

It was quiet.

"Hey dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever get bored…you know like, do you ever get the urge to just _leave_?" I implored, his boot heavy in my hands, my eyes staring up beneath my bangs.

I blew them off my forehead as he kneeled to level with me. His knees cracked. "Do you?"

The air rushed out of me at the look in his eyes.

"You have so much of your mother in you."

I blanched. "Don't say that."

"I know you hate that but I don't regret any of it. How could I? I got you. And Renee…she was so strong and beautiful and she wanted the world and I just couldn't help but fall in love with her. She had no idea of the effect she had on people around her. But I swear…there was some part of me…that wanted just a piece of her spirit." He paused, his crinkled eyes far off. "She wanted the world but the thing was…she could have it. Everyone knew that. She was just one of those…people."

Questions bubbled over. "Why do you stay here…how do you _stand _it?"

"It's the only place I have left of her. Our memories are here. She is here, in what she left behind. You're here." His gaze pleaded with mine, searching. "I wanted my baby girl to grow up here…to feel the wind and see the snow and think of freedom and independence because that's all I have left of her to give."

I wanted to be angry. I wanted to hate her. But my dad was here, doing the best he could, protecting me and freeing me and trying to raise me the right way. Alone.

"Oh god," I croaked before the sobs were wracking my body and I fell into familiar arms, a shoulder that smelled of pine and rain and soap. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--"

He shushed me and "I don't know what I'm doing," I choked.

"Bella, Bella, none of us do." He whispered. "We just have to keep on keeping on. We do what feels right. It's how I raised you."

He pulled back. "I think you turned out alright, don't you?"

He tried to smile and I exhaled a shaky laugh. I wiped my runny nose on my shirt.

"Okay?" he asked, unsure of whether or not he could let me go. He was always like that when I cried…unsure.

"I cut school today, after lunch." I got up, cleaning my face with the hem of my t-shirt.

"Oh?"

"I'm sorry, I was just having a shi--er, bad day and I couldn't--"

"It's fine, Bells. But be careful…colleges don't like ditchers."

"How would you know?" I teased as he stuck his boots in the closet.

"I may be old, but I'm not stupid." He tapped his head. "And I am the sheriff. Have to be in the know about all this stuff. Sue always asks me about it."

"About school?"

"No, you dork, about your college applications."

I groaned. "Don't tell her anything, Dad. It's Forks suicide."

He looked sheepishly at me.

"Dad," I whined. "Sue has been asking you about me since I was twelve and she got glasses. Would you just ask her out to dinner already?"

His cheeks got red and he started stuttering in admonishment.

"You're so adorable, you know that?" I said, turning on the news and making my way to the kitchen.

"I'm hungry. What's for dinner?" He asked gruffly. But I could tell he was smiling.

I just could.

* * *

I got a phone call later that night.

Charlie was still watching the news, his tea cooling on the coffee table in front of him.

The caller id flashed _Private Caller_.

"Hello?"

"_Bella!" _Someone giggled into the receiver.

"Who is this?"

"_It's Rosalie. Rosalie Hale. You know, from school." _She laughed again and I heard voices in the background.

Loud, upset voices. "Uhhhh," was all that came out my mouth.

My brilliance never ceases to astound me.

A woman's voice hissed over the connection but her words were muffled. Rosalie was trying to speak in between chortles of laughter. The world had suddenly gone insane. I shook my head in an attempt to wake up from this weird dream.

"_Bella? Bella?" _Her voice was hysterical, out of breath from her laughter.

"I'm still here, Rose."

"_My…my parents," _she was interrupted by another round of giggles before she tried to continue, _"god I'm sorry, it's just all so _hilarious_." _

"Rosalie, what is going on?" I asked, trying to be the sane one.

"_They…they got a phone call…from the school," _she carried on in between snickers, the voices still aggressive and scary in the background, _"about our little…lunch date."_

She cracked up as if it was some secret joke. "Rose, I didn't know you would get in trouble…I asked if I should take you back to school. You insisted you didn't--"

"_Tsk-tsk, Bella I don't care about that," _she said, her voice regaining some sort of normal tone, _"I'm dreadfully sorry. My parents just needed an explanation and I tried _explaining _to them calmly but they just insisted I call. I don't even know why. What was it they called you? Ah yes,"_ she cackled harshly into the phone, _"a negative influence. Although in my opinion, you're not a negative influence, you're more of a crass, wonderful here's-how-not-to-be-a-girl infl--"_

She was suddenly cut off and then, _"Hello?" _A sharp voice came on the line.

"Um, yes, hello." I rushed, kind of scared that one word could sound so…_fierce_.

"_Are you Isabella Swan?"_

"Uh…yes?" I put my face up against the sink window to make sure there weren't government agents outside my kitchen.

"_Yes, hello, I'm Evelyn Hale, Rosalie Hale's mother. Am I to understand that you took my daughter out to lunch and proceeded to _not _transport her back to school in order for her to attend the rest of her classes, resulting in the school making a phone call to our home--_to our home_--all because you thought it would be a good idea to go prancing around Forks, playing hooky like some juvenile delinquent?" _Her voice sounded preposterous and appalled and clipped and I absentmindedly wondered if she was one of those people you had to reach through a secretary.

And then I realized she had asked me a question. I think. It was in there somewhere…

"_Are you still there?" _She accused in a snobby way that made me feel like I was wasting her time despite the fact that I hadn't even called _her _in the first place_. _

"Uhhh…"

"_Do you even speak English?" _She sounded horrified.

Ah hell.

"Listen, _Mrs. Hale_, yes I did drive her off campus but she made the active decision to _not go back to school_. I'm sorry if you think I'm a bad influence or if I'm not good enough to be her friend but Christ, just listen to her for once. She is _trying _but she's not perfect. Believe whatever you want but _your daughter_ cut class today. The truth hurts, doesn't it?"

I heard her actually gasp in shock and I looked at the phone in horror. The filter had decided to take a day off again.

There was a pause so long I had enough time to frantically get out a pen and pad on which to write my suicide note.

"Well." I heard a calm exhale, "I believe we can discuss this matter rationally. Why don't you drop by so my husband and I can talk with you and sit down to work this out peacefully? We are adults after all…at least some of us are," she trailed off, muttering to herself.

I coughed to hide my snicker. I forgot that she was waiting for an answer.

"Do you have a car?"

"Yes, I have a car," I said tersely, offended that she would think I was so low as to not have a means of transportation. I rolled my eyes. _God. _"Where do you live?"

There was an awkward lull. "Hello?" I asked, confused.

"Isabella, do you have parents?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" I spat into the receiver. _Jesus, who the fuck is this lady?_

"If you ask one of them, I'm sure they would be able to give you our address. I look forward to meeting you soon."

And then she hung up on me.

"Bitch!" I screamed at the dial tone.

"Language!" Charlie yelled from the living room.

I stalked out of the kitchen, planting myself in front of the television, steam coming out of my ears.

"Who was that on the phone?" Charlie asked hesitantly, looking scared of my answer.

"I just spoke to Mrs. Hale and she had some very charming things to say to me…" I started pacing, unable to control my pounding footsteps, "apparently she chose to blame me for corrupting her daughter--ha!--and then had the audacity to degrade me without even outrightly insulting me! I mean, who in the blazes, _does _that?"

"I'm not sure I'm getting--"

"She doesn't even know who I am! How dare she--"

Charlie's eyes got big. "Wait a second, did you say Mrs. Hale? As in _Mrs. Hale_?"

I froze. I could feel a vein pulsing in my forehead. "If someone else tells me about how prestigious and rich and famous they are and oh how can I not possibly know who the Hales are, I swear to God I will go on a killing rampage."

He looked up at me anxiously, his eyes darting longingly to the 11 o'clock news behind me. "You're good friends with her daughter?"

I huffed. "Is that so _fucking _hard to believe?"

His eyes disapproved my colorful choice of words. "I just didn't…they're very uppity, Bella. I just didn't think you'd--"

"Just give me their address."

"Why do you need…"

"Mrs. Hale requests my presence so we can pretend we're all human beings and don't want to rip each others throats out. Oh wait, that's just me. I'm the only animal here. Maybe I should show up in my cavewoman costume. Gah. This day _needs _to be over."

"I think it's in your school directory…"

I huffed again. "Of course. They probably funded that too."

I ruffled through the junk drawer in the kitchen.

"Uh, honey…what exactly is going on?" He called from his perch on the couch.

"Hell if I know, Dad. Hell if I know."

"Just be careful, okay? From what I've heard, they're very…" He searched for the word, "strict. And call me if things get out of hand. I have a gun you know."

"Oh, I'm well aware of _that,_ thank you. And you know what's funny? You're not the first person to tell me that."

* * *

"I feel like I'm going to a freaking interview." I yelled down to my poor father.

I was jumping around trying to get my other damn shoe on.

"Just don't hurt yourself." He yelled back.

"Ha. Ha." I muttered.

I checked the mirror. "Oh god, I'm such a tool," I groaned.

"No you're not!" Charlie shouted back up. "Although, I'm not entirely sure what that means."

"Well, it perfectly defines me. Right now. I mean, I'm wearing a dress."

I tried not to think about the fact that we were having a conversation on different floors.

"You're wearing a dress? Wow, you really want to impress them."

I slapped my forehead. "Jesus. I just want to show them I'm not like…_trash_."

I didn't hear him reply. I continued to look in the mirror. I pulled my hair into a bun and tried to make myself believe this made me look more grown up.

"Oh honey," a soft voice came from behind me.

I turned around.

"You should wear a dress more often." He said slowly, his voice ringing with…pride?

"Knock it, off. Yes, I am a girl. It is possible." I shuffled around to find my phone and purse amidst the tornado that is my room.

"Nah, Bells, I don't mean that. I just mean I can't believe I have a daughter as lovely as you."

"Dad, stop, you're killing me. Please, I'm so close to changing again."

"Why do you hide?" His inquisitive stare stopped me. He shook his head. "You don't have to prove anything to these people. I'm proud of who you've become, maniac episodes and all." A devilish smile slid across his face.

"I'm going." I kissed him on the cheek. "I love you."

I was sliding my keys into the driver side door when my phone suddenly rang, scaring the living shit out of me. _You know you're losing it when your own ring tone makes you shit your pants. _My keys plunked on the ground. I scrambled for my phone, opening it without checking the screen.

"Hello?" I searched blindly for my keys. "Where the fuck did they go? Hello?"

"_Bella?" _I almost dropped my phone. My fingers scraped along the ground, grasping at nothing. _"Bella, are you there?"_

"No." I said, finding my keys.

"_What are you doing?" _His voice was anxious and I could picture him running his hands through his hair and I didn't want to.

"I'm trying to open my goddamn car. What are you doing?" My voice sounded harsh in the cold night air. I could see my breath fan out in frustration and I could see it disappearing in front of me.

"_Tell me you're not on your way to the Hales right now." _

"Does everyone in this town know everything about everybody?" I screeched. "What the fuck--"

"_I was there…for, uh dinner and they were checking their messages and whatever. That's beside the point…" _and the way he said, all rusty and troubled and god, I just wanted him out of my head.

"Oh and what pray tell, is the point?"

"_Don't go. Please. It's just…not something you want to get involved in." _

"Edward. I think I can handle this. Why don't you mind your own business and go back to not caring and not ever call me again--"

"_Stop, stop. Listen to what I'm saying, you don't understand--"_

"No you stop, asshole. I'm trying to tell you to _fuck off_. I can't do this right now."

"_I care, alright? I care and I can't help it and I know what's going to happen and please just pay attention to what I'm saying…"_

I sighed, rubbing my eyes. "God, I'm so tired."

His voice was sleep and I wanted to wrap myself in him. _"I know."_

"Demetri told me."

"_Christ."_

"But I…we just need to talk."

"_Talk now!" _He sounded frustrated and I wanted to see him.

"No, not…I have to deal with this. I'm sorry, but I have to do this."

"_Wait…I'm coming too. This…I just need to be there--"_ I heard the jingle of keys.

"This really isn't about you. Stay home." _Please. _"I can't have you there."

The rustling stopped. _"Why?" _He asked roughly.

"I already feel pretty inferior at the moment, I don't think I need any more douchebags to witness the deterioration of my dignity, thank you very much."

"_Bella, I…hold on, if you're doing this…just."_ He stopped. _"Are you wearing a dress?"_

"Fuck you."

He had the nerve to laugh. _"You are?" _The surprise in his voice offended me.

"I'm hanging up now."

"_Wait, would you just--"_

I shut my phone. At least I got to hang up on someone. I had to admit, it felt…powerful.

I started my car and hoped I didn't get lost in my own home town.

* * *

**I want to pimp out erica-lopeezy's O/S, ****Her Love to Admire****. Go read it. It's golden. **

**Sah helped me through my almost hysterical breakdown (don't ever put your whole life on a computer) so I want everyone to know that she is amazing. But I'm sure you already knew that. La strana…I miss you…**

**Also, I want to note that I have rediscovered the awesomeness that is Wheat Thins. Go eat some. It is the nourishment that made this chapter possible. **

**Thanks for reading. **


	20. Antiquity

**A few announcements, but I will make them at the bottom. **

**I'd like to make a shout out to punkfarie, who wrote a lovely rec for this story. You can find it here http://bfffersoffanfic (dot)  
com/im-sorry-punk-is-recing-a-fic-what**

**This is for erica's thoughtful texts, sah's I-miss-yous, and la strana's sleepy pills. Rahbah, we needs must get to know each other. NEXT TIME G-CHAT SHALL NOT EPICLY FAIL. **

**Here's to fights with incriminating evidence on ADF. Yes, la serenade, I'm talking about you. **

* * *

Driving down a dark road in my small, insignificant town, I wondered, for the very first time, what the point was.

Have you ever just stopped and truly asked yourself?

_What's the point?_

I was graduating this year, I was finally leaving and getting out, and I honestly didn't care. There's all this buildup…to what?

Everything was just too goddamn insignificant to remember. Mediocre.

School and people and places went and happened and were. Days were spent so I could just get to the next, stretching on forever until I couldn't even decipher beginning from end. It was just…time. Time passing. Right here, right _now_.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

_What was the point?_

I went to class. I spent lunch in the back of my truck, pulling the crusts off my sandwich. I had daily conversations with the librarian. I kept my headphones in even when there wasn't any music playing. And those days, those godawful days of classmates and desks and education just stretched, details and friends and _things_ blurring until I couldn't even begin to understand how I got through it.

It was all so laboriously long.

And Rosalie, even Edward, though I really didn't want to admit it…changed that.

I could tell people, hell, I could tell the fucking world that I was different and unique and terribly clever but fuck if it meant anything because I still went to high school, I still felt alone at parties, I still applied to college, I still wore dresses to meet people's parents.

I still did everything everyone else did.

Time passes and we're still…the same. We can talk all the shit we want and prove nothing to the world or a mom that's not there or a boy who sees past you and it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter because…the cupboard's still empty and the rooms are still pink and the mirror's still broken.

I thought fondly of Jasper.

My phone rang next to me. I picked it up. "Edward, I'm sorry but I can't deal with you right now--"

"_It's not Edward." _

I should've looked at the screen like every normal human being does. "Jake. Hey."

"_Were you planning on ever calling me back?" _He asked quietly.

I sighed. I hadn't talked to him since…"God, I'm sorry. There was a lot going on and I meant to…but I just forgot and I don't know. I was confused. That night was…look I'm sorry, ok?"

"_He dropped you off at Angela's?"_

"Yeah, everything was fine, Dad."

"_He didn't…" _He waited for me to answer the unspoken question lingering in the air.

"Would you stop already?" I was getting exasperated.

"_You don't really sound fine." _He spoke slow and deliberate, analyzing me over the phone.

"I'm just tired."

"_You're always tired."_

"Asshole."

"_When can I see you?"_

I was struck by the question. "Whenever you want, Jake, you know that."

"_Well, I wasn't sure. I thought you would be too busy with _other _plans." _His voice turned sharp.

"What the hell is _that _supposed to mean?"

He paused. I could hear his quiet breathing. It unnerved me and I turned left too hard, the screeching tires too loud.

"_I don't know what's going on but I just want you to be careful. Can you do that for me?"_

"What are you asking?" I replied, cautious. There was something lurking beneath the surface of his words.

I waited.

"_Nothing." _He expelled a breath. _"I'm not asking for anything."_

The edge in his voice never wavered. It felt surreal. "What's going on?"

"_No, it's stupid. I wanted to just hear your voice…I can't explain. I think I just feel like it's all going too fast and the world is hanging ominously and there's just no more goddamn…" _He stopped.

I held my breath. "Time?"

And released it.

"_Yeah."_

"For what, Jake?" I murmured, curious.

"_I don't know. It's just this feeling I have." _

My heart ached a little bit.

"I have to go." I said because I was on the Hales' street and I didn't know if I could…

I just didn't know.

"_Yeah." _He said. _"Bye Bellsa."_

* * *

Her house still looked sinister.

Despite the fact that it wasn't pulsating, despite the fact that it wasn't somehow alive and breathing with people and decadence.

I parked in front of their mailbox. I had to be able to make a quick getaway if I had to.

I rang the doorbell and wiped my sweaty hands along the bottom of my dress.

It was silent. But mockingly so.

The door opened and Rose was there, smiling and antsy with excitement as she grabbed my hand and pulled me inside.

"They're in the living room," she said, taking off my jacket, as if it were normal to stage an interrogation in one's own home.

"Is there anything I should know before I submit myself to Chinese water torture?" I asked.

She giggled, those tiny shoulders shaking beneath her baggy sweatshirt. "Stop being so dramatic, they just want to meet you."

I followed her jumpy steps, muttering, "That's what you think."

She turned quickly, assessing me. "Nice dress, by the way. That might make this easier."

Her somber tone quite frankly worried me. She kept walking down the hall. "Do you suffer from bipolar disorder?"

She shook her head, her ponytail whipping against her cheek. "No. I'm just crazy."

And with that, she opened the double French doors of the lion's den.

I was immediately struck by the brightness of the room. I squinted my eyes, unsure of where the light was coming from but fuck.

I felt blinded.

I blindly (ha) followed Rosalie into the room, praying I wouldn't look like a retard as my shoes slapped the hardwood floors obnoxiously.

"Mom, Dad," I heard Rosalie announce, "I'd like you to meet Isabella Swan."

I watched her back move and I was met with a sniff from a regal looking woman and a bored glance from the expensive man sitting beside her.

I stepped forward, reaching out my hand to Evelyn, who raised an unimpressed, perfectly waxed eyebrow at me. "Nice to meet you."

She took it tentatively, like she knew my palms were sweaty, and returned with a cool, "how do you do?"

I turned to the father, but he was too busy swirling the contents of his glass. I desperately looked to Rosalie for help, and noticed that she had already taken a seat on the couch opposite the stoic couple, her feet tucked daintily beneath her.

I awkwardly turned to sit next to her. And then tried to figure out what to do with my hands, while failing miserably. Rosalie snickered softly.

I turned to glare at her.

"So, Isabella, is it?" I almost jumped at the commanding tone of such a feminine voice. "Rosalie told me you two have become good friends over the past month."

I hesitantly met her hard blue eyes. _Cold beauty_, I thought. _That's what it looks like. _

Her blonde hair was short and flawless, cutting across her face, a face that was free of wrinkles and age and I couldn't tell whether it was from good genes or too many surgeries. I took in her symmetrically proportioned features, her posture exuding class and money and I'm-better-than-you.

And I was intimidated.

"Gerald," she glanced at her husband, "isn't there anything you'd like to say?"

He looked at me, but I got the distinct feeling he wasn't really _looking_ at me. "You're Chief Swan's daughter, right?" He asked, clearing his throat.

I nodded.

He didn't see it. He was too busy downing the rest of his beverage. I took in his lanky frame, muscle and posterity aged, and his old business, hard lined face. His black eyes were clouded, glazed and unfocused.

I observed that Rosalie looked nothing like him. But she didn't exactly look like her mother either. I shuddered at the thought.

Evelyn fixed her gaze back on me. "Do you have any plans for the future, Isabella?"

"Jesus, mom." Rosalie breathed.

She turned sharply toward her daughter, "When did you start using such language, Rosalie?"

Rosalie just shook her head.

Her chilling eyes trapped mine again. "Please continue."

"Well I'm going to college, if that's what you're asking…" I was unsure of what else to say.

I was terrified she'd ask for more because truth was…I didn't know much more than that.

"Which school?" She continued to probe, her eyes missing nothing, not even the clasping and unclasping of my slippery fingers.

"I'm crossing my fingers for NYU. But I might just end up at the University of Washington, if you must know." I'm pretty sure my voice cracked twice.

"Hmm. Rosalie applied for New York University as well," She crinkled her nose as if she smelled an unpleasant odor. "Although, I assure you, it is not one of her top choices."

I wasn't sure how to take that one.

But Rose did. "That's enough, mother."

"Don't talk to your mom like that, young lady." The father decided step up, his voice actually sounding authoritative.

"Rosalie," the blond woman hissed, "if you say one more word I will be forced to reevaluate the consequences of your ridiculous actions. And please, I would very much like not to embarrass you in front of your newest friend." Her voice was harsh in its icy precision.

Rosalie grew silent, her eyes dead as she stared at the floor. She was invisible again. She wasn't giddy or dancing with rebellion or anything.

My foreboding grew and I was paralyzed with trepidation.

The stone cold queen moved her attention back to me. I worked really hard not to visibly cringe beneath her unforgivable stare.

"It's so refreshing to see some girls around here still have ambitions." Her voice had changed, almost pitiful now, "I think it's just wonderful that you were able to get this far. I'm always telling people, aren't I, Gerald? 'A woman must strive for success no matter what hardships come her way.' And that is the truth."

She dared me to question her, smiling. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean." I hedged.

She sucked her lip in, her eyes sad. It made me want to spit. "It's just a terrible thing, what happened to your mother."

There was a hard release of air. As my lungs squeezed and my eyes stung, I realized it belonged to me. Everything was burning.

Rosalie didn't move. Gerald got up to refill his glass.

"Nothing happened to her," I wheezed, trying to sound strong, alive, like there was still oxygen in the room.

"Oh yes, I know. I was referring to her decision to leave you and Charlie behind." Her forehead creased in mock sorrow. "I admire your stamina, to grow up without a mother is such a devastating tragedy, I should think. What kind of free-spirited woman has the disgraceful audacity to abandon her only child? It's all just so horribly awful, don't you think?"

"Charlie's enough," I replied, my voice faint and I was trying to just fight it.

Her mouth shifted, her expression suddenly scheming. "Apparently not, since you spend all your time traipsing around town and cutting school, it's a wonder you're still going to college." She paused, considering me, "Is your father paying your tuition?"

The room grew hot and white and her pink lips kept forming words that I couldn't understand and I couldn't move or breathe or stand it.

I felt Rosalie's hand grab mine, her freezing fingers gripping mine.

Her mouth kept moving, but her voice came in and out, and my mind couldn't quite grasp the phrases long enough to make sense of them. "Rosalie doesn't need…remember your place…this whole thing…wouldn't want to call…your father would hate…please try and understand…"

The whole time I stared at the shiny, flawless skin of her forehead.

And I really, _really_ just wanted air and darkness so I could hide and breathe where no one would hear.

So I could scream until my lungs were spent and I could hear the echoes bounce forever and ever.

Rosalie just held on tighter and I was trying to tell someone that there was absolutely no air in this bright, bright crypt when the doorbell sounded, ringing and ringing against my ear drums.

"Gerald, be a dear and answer the door for me? I don't know who would be calling at this time of night." Her voice was sweet and it made me sick.

I swallowed audibly, my throat dry.

Evelyn opened her sneering mouth again and Rosalie cut in quietly, "I think it's time for Bella to go home, mom."

Her eyes didn't leave mine. "Isabella can speak for herself, Rosalie. Don't interrupt, it's not polite." She straightened her already rigid spine. "Have I made myself clear, Isabella?"

Before I could tell her that I couldn't breathe, I was distracted by the sound of voices and stomping footsteps reverberating down the hallway.

I saw the white doors whoosh open with a slam and there he was, green eyes dark and weathered and _mine_, ignoring everyone else and imploring me silently, his hair tugged on and everywhere, his jaw set in fierce anger and defiance.

He quickly surveyed the room, taking in Evelyn's superior, overconfident stance, Rosalie's void expression, Gerald's blundering movements as he stumbled in behind him, out of breath and dizzy as he leaned against the door frame. Then his eyes were back on mine and I wondered what he saw.

"_Breathe,"_ he mouthed.

I inhaled quickly, surprised at the fact that I could, the white spots shifting around the corners of my vision.

Rosalie's hand left mine and she stood quickly. "What are you doing here?"

"Yes, Edward, did you forget something?" Evelyn added innocently.

I tried to focus on his eyes, on _air_.

"I did, actually." His mouth curved sardonically, "I completely forgot that Bella and I have this project due…soon. And we haven't even discussed what we're doing for it. I called her home and Charlie told me she was here…so here I am."

His lips twitched, challenging Evelyn, daring her to ask another question.

Her eyes blinked softly, "Oh, that's lovely. It's so nice to know that someone's looking out for Bella."

His mouth clamped tightly, a muscle in his jaw locking. "Indeed."

Rosalie yawned. "Way to be the hero, Edward. I'll see you tomorrow, Bella."

And she walked out of the room, passing my dark-eyed knight without so much as glancing at him.

"Let's go, Bella." He said, still belligerent and tense.

I got up, trying to stay balanced in the burning spotlight, and kept my eyes focused on him as he led me out, the darkness of the empty hallway enveloping us.

"It's been a pleasure, Isabella." Evelyn's voice trilled out behind us.

I heard the clanking of glasses as Gerald no doubt poured himself another drink.

"It's Bella." Edward shouted back, his voice brash and thunderous and powerful.

His arm wrapped around my waist as he half-carried me away from hell.

As soon as we stepped outside and made it past the gate, Edward ran a finger across my lower lip. "Breathe, Bella."

And I fell harder because I could breathe and he was here and his gaze was dark and angry and confused and I wanted to drown in it.

I tugged on his worn flannel, staring up at him and the black sky behind him. "The stars are shining tonight," I whispered, alive.

He pushed the hair away from my eyes and looked up. "They're for you." He found my eyes. "They're shining for you."

* * *

**Due to the awesomeness of all you readers, this fic has made it to the final round of the Indies for two categories, Best Action or Drama Story (WIP) and Best Love Triangle (WIP). I just want to say thank you to all of you who made that a possibility, I am truly honored. **

**I also, thanks to the constant urging of my readers, have finally gotten a twitter. You are welcome to follow me, although my life is drearily boring. I'm forgolden. **

**Erica, whom I love with all my heart, has bestowed her magic musical talents upon me and made this story a FUCKAWESOME, BLOW-YER-FRACKING-MIND playlist. I'll post it as soon as I figure out how. **

**Thank you to all you faithful readers, I couldn't do this without you. **


	21. Quixotic

**Ok, sorry about the wait first off. RL is shit sometimes and I have to deal with it. **

**I hope this chapter clears some stuff up. If not, eh, feel free to ask me any questions you might have. **

**This one's for erica…because she wanted more Edward and because she's not afraid of being real. Sah0004, for being there and for putting up with my awkwardness on the phone. **

**Twilight's not mine. I just own a Demetri who drives a mustang. Err well, I share. **

* * *

You know those nights when the air is crisp and the darkness is sharp and everything is heavy with _something_.

When you can feel it in each step, each breath, and the stars are all gleaming in anticipation--this mysterious notion of _life_ just hanging in front of your face.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, breathless and scared because he was too close and the stars were white and everything was here and in focus but I was so…

Tired.

And he kind of sighed, his hair standing everywhere and I knew he'd been grabbing at it and all I wanted to know was if I could trust him.

I wondered if he would let me. Because I kind of wanted to.

He leaned closer, our noses almost touching, "You ok?" he whispered and there was something there...

Something I wanted to be true.

His eyes were dark, hooded and veiled in the night and I wanted to _see _the green in them.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered back, because he was too mysterious for me, my reluctant knight in torn jeans and a worn t-shirt.

He pulled back and his eyes shifted away, uncomfortable. He placed his hand on the center of my back and guided me out of the driveway. "Let's get out of here."

"Aren't you going to answer my question?" I persisted, stubborn and trying to not to trip as I watched him pull out a cigarette and light it, his other hand still burning a hole through my back.

He lit it, the cig shoved to the corner of his mouth. "Aren't you going to answer _mine_?"

We stopped in front of his car and it was here--that moment of significance, that moment of please-dear-god-give-me-something--right now. "This is what it's come down to, isn't it?"

He stared at me over the roof of his car, his gaze searing and scrutinizing. "Just get in."

* * *

It was silent for the first couple of turns it took to get out of Rosalie's neighborhood. I don't think either of us knew exactly how to start. It was like those times when there's so much to say…and really nothing to say at all.

Almost subconsciously, and maybe because I felt so on edge all of a sudden, I pulled up my knees and wrapped my hands around them, resting my head along the smooth fabric of my dress and staring out the window, not caring that it was probably the most unladylike position ever invented.

Edward chuckled quietly. "Rosie always sits so damn straight in my car." He laughed again, almost to himself. "But the second you get in and don't put your seatbelt on, you…" He trailed off, his face twisting with realization and disgust.

I tightened the clasp of my hands, nervous and scared and somewhat frustrated because I just didn't understand. I turned my face to him. "I think it's high time you tell me what's going on between you two. Because all this weird, creepy threesome bullshit is fucking pissing me off."

And then I remembered something. Something important. "_Shit_."

Edward whipped his head toward me, his stormy eyes concerned as they sought out mine. "What?"

And then I was really, _really _infuriated. "Do you see what happens when you swoop in and save me when I don't want to be saved? Barging in like you own the damn place and being authoritative and sexy and distracting me and fuck…you're just everywhere, all the time and then the fucking stars," I took a breath, "You just can't do shit like that because I…god…I just don't even know who you are and you're with _Rosalie_ and you kiss me like it's nothing and those kisses _kill me_ and can you just believe that I left my motherfucking truck in front of their damn house?"

By the end of my rant I was breathing hard and steaming. "You have to take me back. I'm not leaving my truck there so that she-devil can sneer and insult and _hurt _her." My voice broke on that last word and I wish it wouldn't have because I was not weak.

"Hey."

I chewed my lip, turning away because I didn't want to face those too-knowing eyes.

"Look at me."

I couldn't _not_.

"Breathe."

I inhaled quickly.

"I'm here now."

I exhaled. "Why?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and squinted his eyes at the road. It was quiet for a long time.

The silence tore at me.

Each second was time, time in which I didn't know, in which I couldn't see, in which I was helpless and vulnerable and stretched just too goddamn far.

And my eyes were closing, heavy with the weight of everything hitting too hard, too close, and I just wanted it to be over.

"Let me out." I said finally, "I need you to stop right here. Just stop, please. "

I kept begging him so I could ignore the rip of my insides as they twisted with uncertainty.

Because not knowing…not understanding…took its toll on you.

It made you feel _aged_.

It made you feel too young and too exhausted and too _heavy_.

But he didn't take his foot off the accelerator or apologize or take me back to get my truck. Instead, he took a deep breath. "My father and a man by the name of Gerald Hale grew up together, lived down the street from one another, made secret pacts and ambitions and all that other shit that Forks makes you want. They went off to college, the perfect pair, married their high school sweethearts, the top of their class, all of them."

I couldn't move.

He continued, still looking straight ahead, one hand on the wheel. "It had been their dream to come back, to build and make something of this town because they were _proud _of their power, of their influence here. I think it was just because they missed the praises this sorry place always showered over them. But what the fuck do I know? Their perfect brides were more than happy to succumb to the role of housewives and soon-to-be-mothers, giggling over the future of their children, each promising one to the other, before they could even make it out of their wombs. The fathers smoked cigars over blueprints, plotting and daring life to go against their tailored futures."

His thumb reached over to slide across by bottom lip, reminding me to breathe. "We were always around each other, they never separated us--while our fathers nodded in solemn agreement and our mothers smiled like little girls, giddy with the possibility--we became best friends." The corner of his mouth pulled up in fondness. "Much to the delight of our parents, we started dating the summer after our first year of high school. It was fun--new and exciting and intriguing--and all that other shit people say about first love, young love, teenage love."

He didn't have to explain to whom he was referring.

His hand moved to cover my hand, as it gripped the seat. "She was my whole world, I breathed and she breathed and it was easy for both of us. And I could dream of something with her and that was enough for me."

His jaw sort of locked as he squeezed my hand, his brow furrowed. "Some dickhead said something to her one day, Jesus, I can't even remember his name. She didn't have to say anything for me to know something was wrong." He exhaled harshly. "How ironic to think that before she was always laughing but that day, she wouldn't say a word. When she finally did tell me, when I _made _her tell me, she started crying and I knew I was going to break that kid's fucking face."

My mouth opened with a crack. "What did he say?" I whispered.

"He said," Edward paused, his Adam's Apple bobbing, "that I was just fucking her because I wanted to impress my dad. When I saw that asswipe again, he got what was coming to him. I got suspended and I felt smug because that kid's nose was definitely broken and Rosie felt bad but she couldn't hide the smile that came to her face when I told her about it. But my dad," he paused again, searching for the words, "_lost _it."

I squeezed his hand back. His knee reached up to steer as his other hand rummaged for something. When he pulled up another cigarette to his mouth, I tugged it away, my thumb brushing his mouth and he looked at me.

His eyes, haunting and broken, pulled at mine and I didn't know what to say.

"I want to kiss you," he said quietly.

"You're driving." I murmured. "Finish."

I needed this. I'd avoided and covered my ears and acted like an indignant child for long enough.

It was time to grow up.

To face this.

"I saw everything after that. I grew distant even as Rose continued to love me, to make me cookies, to invite me over for dinner. I'd see my dad's eyes and it would make me sick to my stomach. I just finally fucking realized that…"

He stopped.

"What?" I whispered again.

"Being with Rose wasn't something that I _wanted_." He rolled down the window. "It was something that was given to me, handed down--expected of me--and I believed it to be my only future. Hell, it didn't even matter at that point. I had no choice."

"And Rosalie?"

"Oh she saw too. But it wasn't because of me. I pretended for her. Even when I stopped…I had to. She didn't deserve my shit, and if she was happy then I better be fucking happy right along with her." He dragged his fingers through the tangled mess of his hair. "But she got it on her own. She saw. I don't know how, but she did. And it devastated her. She never said anything, but I knew. And then when she stopped eating…well it was her way. It was how she coped with everything and we both agreed to just pull ourselves together and try to continue whatever it was that we had once had."

He pulled into a parking lot that gave me a sense of déjà vu and shut off the engine.

Still staring straight ahead, his jaw rigid and tight, he continued. "She couldn't do it, though. It hurt her too much to make the effort of acting like we were…" he stumbled for the right words, "happy. I think we both looked at each other with scorn, knowing the other was our cage and being unable to do anything about it. I mean…we love each other in a way that only we could…but we hate each other too."

I bristled at the word loved.

He sensed my tension and finally turned to me, his eyes pleading with mine. "You have to see…that's it's terrible, this whole thing. We are _hurting _together because we can't ever be separated. And I can't…stand it anymore."

I bit the inside of my cheek hard because… "Why did you kiss me…that first time…if you're in love with Rosalie?"

He bent his head closer, his eyes trapping mine in their determined gaze. "Silly girl, can't you see that I'm in love with _you_?"

"But you said--" And then his lips, those cold, chapped lips were on mine.

I had gotten my truth.

So I gave in and…let myself be.

My fingers weaved their way into his hair and his hand cupped the back of my neck in a way that was so familiar and intimate, his thumb brushing across my racing pulse, my lips parting slowly because he was air and hope and he was asking me for freedom.

Salvation.

And as he breathed into me, his scent engulfing, his tongue tracing, exploring me as I gave in to him and breathed back, the heat of _us_ mixing and charging as he mumbled my name against my skin over and over.

He kissed down my chin, to my neck. "Rosalie and I have been over for a long time."

"But I thought--" He sucked gently on the skin right below my ear, and I moaned, forgetting what I was even going to say in the first place.

"We never told anyone." He whispered against my shiver, his thumb circling my knee.

"Fuck, Edward this is too fast…_unh_…wait…there's something I need to know…"

He pulled back quickly, his darkened eyes frustrated and everything and _there_. "What?"

"Why didn't you care when Rosalie…" I left the question hanging, trying to keep my gaze from his the red of his top lip.

"Are we really talking about this right now?" He rubbed furiously at his eyes.

"I need to know."

"Did she say that?"

I sighed. "Edward, she didn't have to."

He sat back in his seat, staring through the windshield again, his elbow resting on the steering wheel. "Well shit, Bella, it became harder for both of us to live up to something we weren't…I had already accepted that I couldn't make her _be okay _with any of it and there was nothing I could do to change…hell, she was already gone. I was the her captor anyway, there's just nothing to do. There was nothing _left _to care about."

I shook my head slowly, "That's not good enough."

He punched the seat, making me jump. "Why does this even matter? I've told you everything. What does this have to do with _me and you_?"

"It has _everything _to do with us!" I screamed at him, because it was her that called out to me on that fateful day, crying for someone to understand.

It was those eyes that gave me nightmares and wouldn't let me forget.

I fumbled for the door handle, trying to get out.

I felt his hand grab my arm. "So…where do we stand?" He asked roughly.

I couldn't look at him. "I'm going away to school and you're destined to be with Rosalie and _god_, Edward, you saw what happened tonight…you'd _never_ be able to outrun them, never mind you fucking psycho father."

His hand flinched and he quickly dropped my arm. I opened the door, turning to look back at him and ignoring the guilt crawling along my spine when I saw his downcast eyes. He wouldn't even look at me, his expression dead and the fire just…gone.

I stumbled out of his car and took in my surroundings. And as I stared at the flickering Open 24 Hours sign and the comforting, smudged windows of my donut shop…I felt stupid.

There were just so many things out there…I didn't know.

I was cold as I stood there, my legs shaking, caught between something I wasn't even sure pulled in opposite directions. There was just a curiously building pressure that didn't give me an instinct, a piece of advice, didn't point me back to truth or virtue or love…it just made me feel so terribly lost.

Disoriented.

Even if home was right there, _right there, _staring at you in the fucking face.

Because you just never really ever _knew_.

And that was the beauty of it.

The courage it takes to just _fuck it all_ is so goddamn hard to come by when it's suddenly shoved right in front of you.

When it's too close and too there and you wonder if there was ever a time when you could take a step and not have to think about how you could never ever turn back.

I twisted around slowly, doubting that Edward would still be there.

Everything was blurred and I heard his door open and "I just don't know," I croaked.

And then he was there, wiping my cheeks, his forehead too hot against mine. "Me neither, Bell. Me neither."

I couldn't say anything and "I'm sorry" was all he could whisper, over and over.

Time stopped. Or rather…it didn't stop at all…I just stopped paying attention.

It was then that I realized that maybe this whole thing…this whole idea we have of growing up, of instantaneously having the ability to make the right decisions, of one day finding that everything comes easily, naturally…is just a lie.

Maybe it's okay that I'll spend my entire life searching, uncovering, wondering.

Maybe that's just harder to accept when you're alone and you can hear your footsteps echoing along the walls of an empty house and you're mom tells you to be more than what she left behind. Maybe it just hurts to be called immature when you know you are, when at the same time you know admitting this should mean something.

Or maybe…adulthood is a sham. They tell you to grow up…but the only way to really understand is just to learn as you grow.

And maybe someday you'll find all the pieces that make up…you.

But see, all that _shit _is meant to be bore alone, because you're the only one who possess the ability to carry it.

But not being alone…that just makes it a little less painful.

A little less awfully confusing.

And right then, with his warmth pushing against me…I no longer felt the freezing air or the bite of the wind.

After an eternity that was over too quickly, after not saying all the things that only silence can say, Edward put his hand around my waist, muttering something along the lines of "it's fucking cold out here" and ushered me inside.

My whole body was still numb--numb with the weight of too much and numb with the weight of him being here--in this place that was mine and his and us.

There was a man behind the counter who nodded his head at Edward.

"The usual?" He asked.

I looked up at Edward in bewilderment. His eyes were already scorching, staring down at mine. "Yeah," he replied, his gaze never wavering.

And it was at that moment that I began to wonder who Edward Cullen really was.

And as the man handed Edward not one, but two coffee cups, I began to wonder what it might be like to truly let myself fall in love with a boy.

I wondered if it was really that simple.

* * *

**I'm curious…any of you "think-you're-in-love" readers out there?**

**I will shamelessly raise my hand. Erica…you're already familiar with my obsessive crush. **

**But please readers…do tell. **

**Also, I updated my profile. It's pretty damn epic. **


	22. Unveiling

**I am so terribly sorry for the wait. I know I say that every time but please know you have my apologies. **

**This chapter was tough. I'm a bit nervous as to how it goes over. Credit goes to Erica's fuckawesome play list. Seriously, it was what made me suck it up and finish, even when I kept hitting delete. **

**I don't usually do this. But there was one song that I played on repeat: Kiss Me Again by Jessica Lea Mayfield. Again, courtesy of miss erica. **

**Thanks again readers, for your patience and love. **

* * *

"Who is it that can tell me who I am?"

--King Lear Act I, Scene 4

There used to be times when it sort of hurt to breathe.

And I used to wonder if that was normal. If that was just a physical reaction to panic, shock, agony, paranoia.

I ignored the fact that I wasn't any of those things.

I wasn't normal. I believed it to be a terrible imposition for any other human being to think the thoughts I have thought.

It would be just terrible.

Sometimes I'll be sitting on the bed in my room, watching the rain hit my window over and over, and there's this odd pang in my chest. And I breathe deeper, pondering how many seconds I have to live, but it's not that I'm suffocating or that my airway is blocked, but rather, there's this sort of uncomfortable weight that builds, and it just…hurts.

The only person I've ever explained this to was Alice. She had looked at me with wide eyes, pausing in her mascara re-application, and looking at my reflection in the mirror with that worried, calculating glance, exasperation shadowing its edges. She asked me if I was depressed or something.

I'd cocked my head, "Am I supposed to just know?"

She'd shrugged, focusing back on the thickness of her eyelashes, and said that she thought that was how most people got treatment, by telling doctors they were depressed. Although, she said with scrutinizing perusal, most people just want the medication.

"Oh?" I'd responded, marveling at her whimsical knowledge.

I watched her long lashes flutter as she batted them and I hoped to god something would change. Something would be different and would slap me in the face in that shocking, catch-your-breath kind of way.

Watching the same things over and over, I believed, would just be the death of me.

They wonder why the world is suffering. Depression, ha.

People are just fucking bored out of their minds.

* * *

I sipped my hot coffee, inquisitive of the stranger before me. "So how's Demetri?"

My eyes were met with green fire. "What do you care?" The words were harsh, pushed through gritted teeth.

I sat back and enjoyed the way his jaw clenched. "Jesus, Edward. Calm down. I just thought I'd ask. There's something about him…he's sort of tragic and I feel--"

"He's fine," he cut in, rolling his eyes, "the bastard will learn, someday."

I tilted my head curiously at him. "Learn what, exactly?"

His eyes flickered, holding my gaze. "That it doesn't matter."

He released a breath of air, the lingering scent of coffee and smoke filtering around me. I ignored the tingle that slid down through my stomach. What the hell was it about this coffee shop?

"What?" He asked, his lips pulling up into that familiar smirk. I realize I'm staring at his lips.

I shake my head, reaching for my coffee. I peek up at him and he's still watching me, smug and boy and fuckhot, his hair falling lazily into his eyes.

I can feel heat spreading across my cheeks. I wiggle my toes in hopes of fighting the damn blush that's no doubt painting my skin. God.

He sweeps the hair away from my eyes, ducking his head down so that his are level with mine. We sort of do this weird stare thing that by all means should've creeped me out…but instead I feel…_out of control_. All of my senses heighten and I just can't stop _wanting_.

"Who are you really, Edward Cullen?" I whisper because I'm scared of the feelings I may or may not have.

"Hell if I know," he replied, sitting back.

He paused, lost in thought. "Not my father."

I stopped. "I will never be my mother."

"You will never be your mother," he returned, his tone somber and his eyes burning into me.

"You," I reached forward to run a finger down his rough cheek, "are not your father."

He tugged his hair, looking away.

I stared down at the sugar packets on the table, alone in my inner musings. We both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the night quiet and the faint whirring of the coffee machine reminding us that we were human, that we were--for now--existing outside of reality, outside a world of lies and mediocrity and rage.

"Why are you going to college?" The words were rasped and small even as he said them, his shoulders slumping, his head down and those damn fingers pulling through the auburn tangles again.

Amusement softened my face, an unexpected laugh pushing out of me in a strained puff of air. "I'm going to college…to find myself."

"Oh?" One eyebrow disappeared as he appraised me. "And how does one," he spun his index finger in the air, "find themselves?"

"I have no idea."

A teasing smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "I thought I'd ask, you sounded awfully confident of that answer."

I shoved my chin up defiantly. "I'm confident in the fact that I don't know anything."

"And that's enough?"

"Well it's not enough," I replied, pondering his choice of words, "but it's something."

He stared at me and there was something there that reminded me of the day he pulled me out of the way. Of the day he held me close and I couldn't think or breathe and his eyes were everything I could have ever asked for.

I had forgotten what it felt like to be with him.

To somehow feel _alive_.

"It's frustrating how well you seem to know me…while I know almost nothing about you." I finally admitted out loud.

He chuckled, those elegant fingers drumming the table. "On the contrary I think you are quite the enigma."

I waved my hand at him, suppressing an eye roll. "Yeah yeah, skip the part where you flatter me."

He caught my hand, stopping its movement while sliding his thumb along my palm, down to the sensitive skin of my inner wrist. My breath caught.

"Since we both seem to be at an inconvenient standoff, let's have us a little competition, hmm?" He breathed, and I was again assaulted by his intoxicating smell, the way his eyes slanted in a cross between heated desire and devilish mischief.

"I-I would much prefer--" I stammered before my words were halted with a finger.

"I'll go first."

With his finger stilled pressed against my mouth he took a breath. "You are Bella Swan. You have two birthmarks on the left side of your neck. When you're thinking, which you always are, you get this adorable crinkle between your eyebrows. You're one of those people who forgets to eat. You like to be alone too much, you don't know how to handle attention, you have no tolerance for alcohol."

I was about to protest when he cut me off, continuing and fighting a smile. "You're easily embarrassed by any sort of advances from the opposite sex," his dark eyes roamed my body intensely, waiting for me to blush scarlet again, before he continued with that infuriating smirk gracing his lips, "you have no idea the effect you have on people, but you miss nothing when you _are _paying attention--"

"Hey--" His hand moved to cover my mouth, muffling my words.

"You're a fighter," he murmured softly, gently, "and you stand by what you know is right. You're honest and beautiful and crazy and you are _not _one of us." His face hardened. "You will never be. I won't let you."

I pulled his hand away. Squinting one eye, I exhaled slowly, gathering my thoughts and trying to make sense of all that I'd ever heard, felt, and believed to be Edward.

"You are Edward Cullen. You cannot sit still. Ever. You smoke too much. You're that tough guy who no one ever really knows about. You're unapproachable and fearless just because you don't give a fuck. You're terrified that one morning you're gonna wake up and look in the mirror and see your father. You won't let yourself let go of shit because you're scared to hell of being vulnerable."

I grinned softly. "You're a quiet drunk, but still somewhat belligerent. You're the bad boy I want to vandalize the school with. You're a cocky bastard who's way too damn perceptive for his own good. "

I looked down, whispering. "But you're a protector too. You care about people…you're conscientious of those around you. You want something out of life. You just don't know what. You want to fly…but you don't know how. You hide behind this…this façade, this mask of apathy and it's so frustrating because when you do take it off--when you're eyes are clear--it just brings everything into focus and it's overwhelming and consuming because it's suddenly mmph--"

His lips stole the rest of my sentence. I leaned into him, kissing back and letting it all just…be.

"Enough," he breathed against my lips, finishing it for me.

* * *

We burst out of the donut shop, snickering at the glares of the various occupants as we stepped out into early dawn, our fingers clasped tightly and our heads knocking into each other as we stumbled, tired but alive and high off the morning air.

I stared at the frosted green that flew past the car window. I watched my breath fog up the glass and wondered how I had missed so many mornings. There was something undeniably hopeful about the crisp sharpness of earth and the white of a rising sun.

"I would take you to school but I don't think your car being at the Hales for an entire day would go over well."

"Hmmm…" I replied, lost in thought.

"You're doing it again," he muttered.

I turned to face him. I was sort of stunned by the reckless perfection that defined his features, sharpened by the light of a new day: the shadow along his sharp jaw, those deep circles beneath his eyes, the way his hair stood up in every direction. I sighed to myself and tried not to fall any harder than I already was.

He was _that guy_…and I was terrified of hitting rock bottom.

"What makes you think we can do this?" I asked.

He glanced at me quickly, before turning back to the road. "Emmett."

I balked. "Emmett?"

"I think I like you sleep deprived."

"Why, because I ask a lot of questions?"

"No, because you're eyes have this glazed over look and your hair looks like its been through a tornado."

I ignored that. "Explain."

"I caught her with Emmett."

"What?" I shrieked at him. "He's fucking psycho, Edward!"

He chuckled. "Nah, he may be an asshole, but he's a good friend."

"Wait, when did this happen? She likes him? But he scares me! Emmett and Rosalie? Are they like, secretly dating? Do you even care?"

He continued laughing despite the onslaught of adamant questioning. "I punched Emmett but I knew all along. He's always had a thing for Rosalie. I guess I sort of shrugged it off because well…Rosalie was supposed to be mine. It didn't matter. So I don't actually know how Rose feels, because she just sort of screamed at me and said it was none of my business but then when I was with you…"

"The night of the dance." I filled in.

"Yeah, she kind of freaked. You see, it's always been me and her, Bell. I think it's hard to separate what we feel and what we've been ingrained to feel. It's hard to ignore what we've been taught to believe our whole lives. But I think Emmett is good for her. I think it's just what we need."

A pang struck my chest and I was kind of terrified. Edward had this way about him…he could say anything in so few words and I just felt like there were so many more he needed to say. But he wouldn't bother speaking them aloud…like, too many words were a waste. And I loved that but sometimes…I wanted him to give me everything.

Maybe I am a selfish bitch.

"We?" I asked, trying to clarify his cryptic statements. Did I sound panicked?

"Yes we. Because she won't be alone. I don't have to be the only one for her anymore."

"Don't say that," I whispered, afraid of what I had gotten myself into.

"Don't say what, Bella?" His voice started rising, angry and bouncing against the windows. "That I'm hoping to fucking hell that Emmett will swoop in and somehow _repair_ the damage that Forks has done, that _her family_ has inflicted on her?"

"Well, why don't you start by fucking owning up to it, Edward? You'll be breaking her heart too, you know!" I screamed.

"Fine," he yelled, gripping the steering wheel and going too fast, "I need him because I'm tired of being her destiny, I'm fucking sick of trying to pretend that she makes me happy."

He punched the window. "Goddamn it, Emmett is a _choice_ that I want her to have."

I said nothing.

It was quiet the rest of the way, while white dandelions and too many green trees whipped past.

It didn't come as a surprise that none other than Rosalie Hale was sitting on her porch steps, a steaming coffee mug beside her, unperturbed as we pulled up behind my truck.

She didn't stand, she didn't scream…she just sort of stared at us.

I didn't look his way as I got out of the car, wanting to just fix everything.

But I guess…looking back on it all--isn't there always a price to pay for love?

So…what cost was too far?

I pulled out my keys and shuffled to my truck, hoping that if I didn't say anything everything would just somehow be okay.

And maybe a tiny part of me--a part that sometimes screamed to be heard--wished that things would just go back to the way they used to be.

That I could just fade back into the shadows, unseen and invisible, cowering in the cobwebs of the past and the future.

I wonder, sometimes, about regret. Is it the feeling you have in hindsight of taking the action? Or is it the haunting reflection induced by _not_ doing anything about it at all?

I wonder sometimes.

"Isn't Edward just the perfect gentleman, Bella?" I jumped at the sound of her soft voice. "Of course you forgot your car, darling. Of course he gave you a ride back."

She was teasing me. Or so I thought. "Rose, listen--"

"Where were you all night, Edward?"

"I took her to that donut shop," he answered truthfully, sounding calm and collected, "Jesus, Rose, I had to after what your fucking parents did to her--"

"Don't you talk about them like that, you asshole!" She shrieked, stalking toward him. "That's my life, do you hear me? They raised me and _that_ is what I come home to everyday. So I'm sorry Bella got caught in the crossfire but god I wanted her to see. I wanted her to be there and be _Bella _and…I just want to be _happy_."

She stood there, shaking on the sidewalk, while Edward watched her as he leaned against his car door.

I felt like an intruder. Only I wasn't. I _was _the reason for this.

And I don't care what anyone might tell you in comfort, or any of that bullshit about how it's not your fault.

If you think somehow that you have something to do with it, if you feel the least bit guilty…then it's because of you.

And it sure as fuck was my fault.

I don't think there is anything lower than feeling like absolute shit.

Her pajama bottoms flapped in the breeze, her skinny frame outlined by the worn material. "She's my _friend_ and god, Edward, I don't have any friends and you--you're _stealing _her away from me--"

Edward cut her off, eyes deep and serious, unquestioning. "I'm in love with her."

What happened next was sort of a blur. It was hard to hear over my own heavy breathing. I remember Rosalie staggering back, some half choke, half gasp sounding from her throat, loud and abrupt on the empty street. I moved forward to catch her…to do something and the whole time I kept thinking _my fault, my fault, my fault. _

Edward remained still, just watching her.

But she didn't fall. She righted herself, looking at him one last time not with sadness, but with grim understanding. And the way she stared back at him…the way she sort of nodded her head once like he hadn't just turned her world upside down…just about killed me.

I was broken and relieved when she didn't glance my way as she turned on her heel and marched back inside, her head held high in true Rosalie fashion.

I think seeing those blue eyes, mask or not, would've given me nightmares for the rest of my life.

But the funny thing is…I still dream about what the look on her face could've been. Sometimes it's an empty smile and sometimes it's pure hatred and sometimes it's a malicious combination of the two.

I don't really know which is worse.

I think Edward called my name once or twice as I got into my truck and drove to school, my dress wrinkling beneath me and my hair blowing with the wind clawing at my face.

And though it was not a feeling I was entirely unfamiliar with--I think, for the first time--I sort of hated myself.

The lines on the road blurred and I stopped caring that I couldn't see.

I wanted to stop seeing ice blue eyes and emerald eyes and the brown of my mother's leather jacket.

But you have to think about want. I mean, how much more significant is that desire in comparison to _need_?

It's that bullshit about consumerism that distracts you from the real problem. Because you are a selfish human being. You, despite your unequivocal goodness, still _live_ for yourself. Or maybe that's assuming too much.

Sue me.

But think about it.

Yeah, you want, you want, you want.

But what do you _need_?

* * *

**Reviews make me smile. **


	23. Defiance

**Sorry, again, for the wait. I feel like I had so many things to say and now because I've taken for-fucking-ever to post, I forgot them all. Oh well. Thanks for being faithful. **

**This one goes out to Shubbimama, whose reviews were refreshingly witty and honest. Your words reminded me of why I started this fic in the first place. So thank you. **

**Also, to punkfarie who (if she remembers) is my twin. **

* * *

I pulled into the parking lot and tried not to cry.

I think it was shock.

I thought about going home. About being a coward.

And then I thought about Charlie. Shit, Charlie. I pulled out my phone with shaky hands. I took in the 10 missed calls. "Shit, shit, shit, shit."

I dialed home and got our message machine. The Swans aren't in, please leave a message and we'll get back to you when we can. I dialed the station.

"Forks' sheriff department." A man's voice answered.

"Hi, may I speak with Charlie?"

"Bella?" The voice asked with surprise. "I'll connect you."

_Oh dear. I'm very afraid. _

"Hey Bella."

"Hey dad, I just wanted to start off by saying there's no use being mad-"

"Why would I be mad?"

I scrambled for words, trying to decipher the honest curiosity in his question. "Uh, well I didn't call you last night."

"It's alright, honey, I understand. I figured the Hales would be somewhat of a trial for you. Rosalie called and explained everything…she said you'd be staying the night and that you'd fallen asleep before you had the chance to call. She's a sweet girl, Bella, I'm really glad you two have decided to become friends. I just might have underestimated her."

I chuckled nervously. "Friends…right. Okay, well just wanted to check in."

"Thanks Bells."

"Yeah," I shook my head to clear it, waiting for everything to just sink in already. "Sure."

I hung up and slumped forward, my forehead clunking against the steering wheel as I shut my eyes and tried fruitlessly to cut through the haze of sleep deprivation and think clearly.

So Rose had covered my ass.

Why in the hell would she do that?

Okay…I needed to take this in slowly. This shocking discovery also implied:

1. Rose had seen my car before this morning

2. Rose had known I was with Edward

3. Rose was more complicated than I thought

And all of these meant that I was fucked. Purely and completely fucked. Because I had no idea what she was going to pull next.

And that sucked ass because it meant that I had to freaking…anticipate and shit. And that required me feeling like more than a zombie. It required me to pay attention and have energy and god…I should've just gone home.

But I didn't. Because I am an A-class idiot.

That's how my day started. I sat on the edge of the seat in every single one of my morning classes, clenched my pen too tightly, bit my lip so hard it started bleeding in Mr. Hart's Lit class. I refused to go to the bathroom and searched for an old tissue that had to be hiding somewhere in my backpack. This caused all of the shit that was _in _my backpack to fall _out _and the entire classroom to turn around and stare at me. The teacher repressed an eye roll (I'm sure I saw it) and pointed me to the box of tissues by the pencil sharpener.

Well fuck…I never noticed that before.

I tried really hard not to mutter anything about the fact that I didn't ever use the fucking pencil sharpener, because I only like to use pens. I tried really hard, I promise.

But of course…all my worrying was for naught. Well at least…it was entirely too premature. Because the thing that had been looming over me…the shit that had been making me jumpy and sweaty and paranoid…didn't even happen until lunch time.

How cliché, right?

The funny part was…I didn't even see it coming.

Like I literally would never have even expected it to happen the way it did.

But it did.

And I'm not gonna lie…it was twisted and manipulative and totally not my style but it was so Rosalie that I couldn't even deny how wickedly cunning the end result turned out to be.

This is all in hindsight, mind you.

I walked into the cafeteria five minutes into lunch, planning on grabbing something edible before getting the hell out, when my eyes darted to their table. Like they always do.

I took in Jasper, Emmett…Edward. He was smiling at something-but it was half-hearted-his hair standing up in all directions and his eyes clouded over with fatigue.

I sort of just wanted to curl up next to him and tug that hood over his head and kiss him.

I ducked my head before the entire school could read the raw hunger in my eyes. Before he could see just how much I wanted him.

"Thank you," I said to the lunch lady, paying for my apple. I turned to the door, letting my hair slide forward and hide my traitor eyes.

And that's when she-the very reason why I'd been jumping ten feet into the air at every sound-walked through those doors.

And she was looking at me. All I could think was, well, this is it.

It started with that haunting stare and now it would end with a fiery glare.

Hah.

She strode toward me with purpose, fire, fight in her eyes, Lauren trailing behind her with a slimy smile on her face, her eyebrow pulled up in an unmistakable _I told you so. _

Bitch.

I braced myself…I think the entire cafeteria did. Rosalie Hale was on the hunt. And she hadn't looked this alive in…hell, a really fucking long time. I think every student's lunch was forgotten, their mouths hanging open in suspended anxiety.

I rejoiced in the way she strutted toward me, shoulders pulled down, pushing her face into mine so that it was impossible for me to _not _look at her.

Because in that moment, her eyes-those cold, ice blue eyes-said everything.

And it was breathtaking.

I did not back down when she came to a full stop, two inches from my face. _Do it. _

_Take it. _

"You traitorous bitch," she spat, her cheeks red and her lips pulled into a pale, thin line. A crowd started gathering while Lauren gleefully looked on. "I trusted you."

"I know," I whispered.

"I loved him," she growled at me, low and fierce.

"I know," I said again, nodding my head at her, not missing the past tense. _Do it._

"Rosalie," Edward called out. And I watched out of my peripheral as he attempted to push toward us, only to be restrained by Emmett and Jasper at the edge of our circle. "Rose baby, stop."

Her spine stiffened with resolve upon hearing his voice and I locked eyes with her again, my stance set and fists clenched at my sides. "Do it, Rosalie."

She cocked her head at me while her eyes sharpened with conviction, with that feeling of knowing that this meant something, that we were here and this was what it had to come to.

_This _was where everything fell together and all the bruises, all the hurt and the pity and the disgust could just be smeared along the horizon of a new beginning. It was now, now, now.

I locked eyes and we both knew.

It was like looking in a goddamn reflection.

"Do it," I murmured again, "For Forks."

And there it was.

I had said it aloud.

I had voiced it.

I watched her eyes widen, her mouth sort of snapping shut as she bobbed her head once, almost nodding to herself.

I steeled myself for whatever she had coming. I don't think I knew what to expect…all I knew was that I wanted something badly.

I wanted her to be free of it.

Of just fucking everything.

I barely caught the determined flash of her cool eyes before I felt a blow to the side of my face and I was staring up at the white ceiling.

She didn't slap me, didn't sucker punch me, didn't scratch me or pull my hair. She fucking clocked me.

That little son of a…

I couldn't help the smile that crept up my face as my tongue checked to see if my teeth were still intact.

Edward was there too fast, pissed and looking down at me, "What the fuck, Rosalie?"

I licked the blood that seemed to be coming from a cut on my lip and struggled to make there be only one set of Edward, while Edward eased me up into a sitting position. I looked up to find Rose standing there, staring at her fist with an expression that looked like a cross between smug satisfaction and awed bewilderment. Ignoring Edward, she gazed at me and upon seeing my ridiculous grin, no doubt with blood dripping down my chin, she laughed.

"You bastard, don't act so damn proud of yourself," I grumbled, spitting out the blood so I could avoid tasting it. She just offered her hand in response, another giggle escaping her lips.

I stood, Edward still hovering near my side. Rose took my arm in the crook of hers and glided toward the doors she had walked through moments ago, while the crowd parted in stunned disbelief.

I passed blurry faces that slowly started to become faces and I smirked, high and empowered. I smirked at them because they just well…didn't know.

_You guys don't have a fucking clue, do you? You poor things, you just don't get it. You'll never understand what happened here today. _

I didn't turn to see Edward's face, didn't stare at how his eyes must have stared bleakly at our retreating backs, how his hands would have tugged on his hair and how he would've just stood there, lost in thought.

I didn't turn to tell him that this was Rose's battle, not his.

I didn't turn to mouth _I'm okay _just so he would know.

I pushed through those doors, leaning heavily on a girl who weighed less than me, listening to the quiet chuckles of a young woman who had forgotten what it meant to love.

And it was _right_.

It was something that I _needed_.

* * *

"You think they have any idea what just happened?" She asked me out of the corner of her mouth, still walking away from the scene we had just made.

I snorted. "If anything, I think we just blew away any preconceived notions they had. Now they just think we're fucking crazy."

"We are crazy," she said as she sauntered out to the parking lot. "And fuck them."

I halted, staring at her. "So what do you propose we do now?"

She reached behind me, pulling the keys out of the side pocket of my backpack. "Go get lunch."

And that became our routine.

And suddenly, those last few lazy months of school-the ones where you're too tired of caring about senior things, like getting into the right school or living up what youth had left to offer-were suddenly bearable and

_good_.

Every lunch we would walk out to my truck and go somewhere. To the diner, to the coffee shop, to the corner just down the street. Just to…get away.

And when we would come back for sixth period we would sort of smile this secret smile at each other, and Rose would rap my truck twice before slinking away to class in that long, willowy gait she has.

One Friday, just an average, boring Friday, it all started to make sense.

Us and them and the world.

It all, slowly, kind of, started to become clear.

I had to start somewhere, right?

We were sitting in the bed of my truck at a street corner not too far from school-our street corner-and Rose was jimmying her pockets, obviously looking for something.

I opened one of my closed eyes, my head still resting against the side. I opened my mouth to ask what the hell she was doing when she brandished a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"I stole them from Edward," she said, pulling two out and handing one to me.

"I didn't know you smoked." I mumbled around the cigarette.

"I don't," she replied, fumbling with the lighter.

I started to protest as I moved to swipe the lighter from her incapable hands. She pulled them back. "Rose, seriously, you don't have to prove anything-"

"Shut up, I wanted to do something…celebratory. For us." She looked at me. "Like a toast…but with cigarettes."

"You are turning into quite the bad-ass." I quickly grabbed the lighter and lit my cig, moving to light hers. "Celebratory, huh? What are we celebrating? The fact that high school hasn't killed us yet? God Rose, you have to inhale."

"Mmm, no." She rolled her eyes at me, choking back a cough as the smoke filtered around us. Her eyes filled with mischief as she sat up on her knees. "Did you get any acceptance letters yet?"

I stared curiously at her, my head tilting.

Oh.

College.

I thought back to the last week, Charlie opening the letters with more excitement than I could muster. "Uh, yeah. I got into Udubbs, Seattle, U of O…ah…waitlisted at Northwestern, Stanford. Oh, and I got into NYU."

Rosalie was practically bouncing. Which looked a bit odd what with the cigarette dangling from her fingertips.

"Do I want to know what you're thinking?" I took another drag carefully, studying her.

"Well," she took a deep breath, "I think we should go to NYU. Like…together."

I giggled at her awkward proposal. "You mean like…together-together? Wow, Rosie, I didn't know you swung that way."

I was entirely too amused by how red her face got at the insinuation. I laughed loudly. "Oh god, you should see your face right now."

"Shut up. I just meant that we should both go to the same school. Because…I don't know…I kind of like you."

I laughed harder.

She clicked her tongue in irritation. "This is _serious_. Would you please just consider it?"

"Rose, you should've just written me a note, middle school style. Then I could circle yes or no and we'd avoid this whole miscommunication thing we have going on."

She shook her head at me, turning away so I couldn't see that her lips were tugging up into a smile. But I did.

"NYU was my first choice. So, I mean I was planning on going there anyway." I shrugged at her, wondering what else she wanted me to say. "But I'm curious as to how you're going to convince-"

"What about money?" She blurted, cutting me off.

I recoiled at the question. But it wasn't because I was angry, I was more just…taken aback. No one had ever really…implied that I couldn't afford certain things.

I mean I wasn't rich…but no one ever just put it all out there.

She caught my surprise. "Oh shoot, no I just meant-"

I waved my hand at her. "Turns out having a mom that abandons you has its benefits." I smiled grimly.

Rose looked horrified. I started to snicker. "Let's just say I have reaped the benefits of child support. Which is actually to say, my poor lost mother will be paying for my college tuition."

"When's the last time you talked to her?" Rose inquired softly, hesitantly.

I finished my cigarette, flicking it away. "Fuck, I don't know. A long time."

We were both silent.

"Whatever." I said. And I meant it.

"You should call her."

"You sound like my dad."

"Well you should."

"We're not having this conversation right now."

"Okay fine, but I just think-"

"Not. Having. This. Conversation." I stared coolly at her. "Plus, you're avoiding my question."

Her eyes widened, feigning innocence. "What question?"

"Rose."

"What? I just don't remember the-"

"Rose!"

She huffed. I snagged her neglected cigarette.

"I was just planning on telling them the truth."

I groaned. "Yeah, like they're really gonna go for that."

"And you're going to help me."

I groaned again. "Sure, it's not like they hate me or anything."

"I'm just going to lay it out plain and simple. I'm going to NYU whether they like it or not. It's that or I ride off into the sunset, never to be seen again."

I slapped my forehead at her romantic envisioning. "They're going to _loathe_ me."

Rosalie shrugged. I had to smile because when she did shit like that, shit that was familiar and nonchalant and free, well it made me…happy. She continued. "They're gonna have to live with it. Because you're rooming with me, coming over for holidays, and making friendship bracelets for me."

"You are quite scary, you know that right?"

"Call it what you will, but it's meant to be. All this," she flailed her arms around, "could not have happened for nothing. And Edward…"

I squinted one eye at her as she paused.

"It just feels right."

"Hear, hear."

She hit my knee playfully. "Asshole."

I gasped. "Why Rosalie Hale, you're starting to sound like a certain gentleman."

She laughed.

I heard the school bell ringing faintly. "So when are we going to tell the parentals you're running away with your lesbian lover?"

She let out this half guffaw, half howl.

I cracked a grin as I jumped over the side of my truck. It was probably the most non-feminine sound she had ever uttered.

* * *

Oh yeah.

We hung out after school too.

Every weekday.

It became a part of me. Of my life.

And it was better than the empty house I was used to.

It was better than hearing my breaths and my sighs and counting the holes on my ceiling.

Not only because Rose turned out to be really loud and almost as ridiculous at me but because.

Rose baked.

And she baked chocolate chip cookies.

And they weren't chocolate chip cookies. They were _mean _chocolate chip cookies.

That's pretty much why I hung out there so much.

But I mean I wouldn't call it taking advantage because well…she knew.

I had made it very clear to her.

We'd walk through the front door that probably cost more than my entire home, the creepy decorative walls mocking me, and I'd say, "If I'm going to stay in this house longer than an hour without being traumatized for life, you need to make me cookies right this moment."

And she would.

And I would eat half the homemade cookie dough before it even made it into the fucking shiniest (biggest) oven on earth.

And then I would be sick.

But by the time the cookies were done, I'd be starving again.

And that's how my clothes stopped falling off of me.

And Rose's, for that matter. Although I didn't really notice.

But it wasn't as glaringly obvious, in your face skinny, anymore. Her bones weren't so knobby and her hips swayed with confidence when I turned the radio up on some pop station.

Fucking Miley Cyrus.

I swear.

And so, sitting on the counter licking a spoon of cake mix, laughing at Rose because she can't dance for shit, I thought, _this_.

This is what they mean when they say the best moments of your life.

This is what they're talking about when grown-ups say things like go and have fun with your friends.

Go out and play.

And then _he _walked in.

He walked in all smooth and blasé and lazy, moving to the refrigerator like he lived here. Like he belonged.

Like everything he did, every heated look, every kiss, didn't turn my world upside down.

Bastard.

He avoided my eyes, which was a good thing, because the daggers they were shooting at the back of his infuriatingly sexy head would have killed him. We hadn't really talked since well. Since that morning.

He was still that far-off danger zone I glared at from a distance.

He was sort of like a bomb I feared setting off.

Gah. Enough with the weird metaphors.

I just…didn't know what to do about him.

"Get out, Edward. This is a girls-only area. You're not allowed." Rose broke into my musings. I scrutinized her posture, the way she spoke to him. It wasn't hatred or bitterness that filled her voice, but an almost childlike annoyance. Like the big brother shooing the little sister away.

I was pleasantly surprised.

Or maybe I was delusional.

Edward grabbed a beer and closed the refrigerator door, turning around and leaning against it. "It's Friday."

Huh?

Rose didn't bat an eyelash. "You're early. Come back at six, douche bag."

He smiled at her, cocky and amused. I had to cross my legs because there was something about that smile that was…dangerous.

"I thought I'd spice things up a bit, _honey_." He oozed the last word, his green eyes daring her.

I inhaled quickly, thinking this playful banter had come too far and that surely Rose was going to blow a fuse.

She laughed.

She _laughed. _

Edward walked over to me and, without ever making eye contact, brushed his fingers along my jaw before shutting my mouth.

Rose looked at him, a challenge glinting in her eyes. "You want to do it tonight, huh?"

Edward, for the first time in two weeks, looked straight back at me. "Why not?"

And that's when it hit me.

This was real.

"Are you ready for this Bella?" Rosalie asked me, unable to mask the thrill shaking her voice.

I sighed, my eyes flickering back and forth between them. "All I know is I'm winning Round Two."

Rose giggled, turning the radio back up and moving to wash the dishes.

Edward stood in front of me, his hands sliding up my legs and fitting himself between them. I froze when he sneaked a quick peck on the cheek. I pushed him away half-heartedly. He caught my face between his hands, and I was lost in his steady gaze.

His eyes asked me if I was okay.

If I wanted this.

I didn't really know how to answer him. On instinct, I bent forward to kiss his neck.

I pulled back, blushing and insecure and hating myself for doing anything so-

He squeezed my hand and nodded.

It was all the confirmation he needed.

* * *

**Hang on to your seats. **

**Also, there's a companion to this story filled with various POVs, it's not anything too splendid but if you are curious, it might help fill in some gaps. **


	24. Fervency

**Thanks for waiting. I really appreciate all you faithful readers. I really, really do. **

**Shout out to sah, because even late, her reviews strike at the very heart of this story. Thanks for being here from the beginning. **

**And to Erica…for being herself. That in itself is inspiration. **

**I haven't been putting a disclaimer on the last chapters but guess what, I don't own Twilight. I just like mixing SM's characters with my words. It's fun. **

* * *

" '_That's the beauty of being eighteen. You can blame everything on not knowing what on earth you're doing. I do, the _whole_ time.' "_

- The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets

* * *

"Bella, why don't you check out the pool in the backyard? I think you're one of the very few people who will actually appreciate it. I have some suits upstairs-the white dresser on the left, bottom drawer."

I saw the urgency in Rose's eyes. Edward jumped in and told me where I could find her room. I vaguely remembered seeing a pool the night of the party.

I felt Edward's eyes on my back and as I hopped off the counter and made my way out of the kitchen and I knew. I knew what was going to happen. And it wasn't my place to remain by the door, it was no longer my duty to eavesdrop, to intervene, to tell them to wake the fuck up.

They were standing on their own now.

I crept up the stairway trying not to focus on walls that seemed to be closing in on me. I opened the door to her room and went straight to the dresser drawer, not wanting to linger in the hollow, muted room. I pulled out the first piece of material my hand met and gawked at the lack of it.

_This is not going to work. _

I continued going through the bikinis, hoping to God there would at least be a stupid one piece. _Please, for God's sake have done swimming or water ballet or some shit. _

"Hah!" I exalted when I finally found a plain black Speedo. I slipped in on, holding my clothes like a shield as I shut the door behind me.

I tiptoed back down the stairs and looked for another side door to the backyard when I heard Edward's insistent murmuring and Rose's stilted voice. _I hope they're okay._

My feet slapped against the cool cement, noticing for the first time the way the grey of the sky had almost lightened to a murky white by a blotted sun that couldn't force its way through the clouds. The air was still and warm.

_Summer's coming. _

I dove headfirst into the pool and thought about—for the second time today—that goddamn party. I pushed all the way down to the bottom, letting my stomach graze the deepest part of the pool, enjoying the burn of my lungs, before letting my feet come down to push off the ground. As my head broke the surface, I looked around, taking in the intricately designed backyard. The rock outcroppings of the pool. The brick grill and barbeque off to the side. The modern looking bar.

And it didn't look cool or neat or snazzy or rich or too good for me.

It looked like a prison.

I tipped my head back, finding the point of balance where my ears could be immersed in the water (without getting an ear infection) while my tummy rose to its surface.

I closed my eyes, letting the world slide into echoed noises and steady breaths. My arms floated out on either side of me as I let the darkness and the water pull me into its comforting lull, my body weightless and free.

And listening to myself breathe, over and over again, forced me to think about some things.

It made me realize just how much I missed my mother.

Made me realize that I was leaving my lonely father for a bright, shining future across the country.

That I was in love with a boy who wouldn't let anyone fight his battles for him. And I was the one in denial.

That the people in this town would always haunt me.

That my best friend-my only friend-was Rosalie Hale, baking extraordinaire.

And I was lost in my thoughts, my body and mind afloat—my fingers uncurling with each release—while everything outside just ceased to exist.

I thought about the way Demetri sucked his cigs, the way Jasper's eyes crinkled when he knew more than you did, the way Jake had looked at me that night-like I was beautiful—the way Alice couldn't see anything past her mirror.

I thought about the pizza guy and James and the pale doll who broke Dem's heart.

I thought about my donut shop and too-cold nights and spiked punch.

I thought about how youth is fleeting, but age and adulthood is long, too long. I thought about college and all the pretend shit about knowing the next stage of our lives.

It was quiet and still, just the inhale, exhale.

Inhale, exhale.

It's sad to think about the fact that you never know. You never just _know._

And I wanted so desperately to know all the world had to offer, seizing and grasping and fighting at everything that passed by, not knowing and blindly reaching for a hope, for a sign that my life would be something more.

It wasn't about selfish pride, it was about making my mark.

It was about _knowing._

_I just wish—_

"What are you doing?"

My body was thrown off its equilibrium as I let out a shriek and sunk into the water in the most ungraceful way possible. I sputtered back up, mumbling profanities at this ridiculously attractive boy.

_-it wasn't so hard._

He was laughing at me. "Sorry, I called your name like a million times. I thought you were ignoring me, you know, because you have been for the past few weeks."

I tried to glare at him but it was challenging to manage a straight face, what with my hair sticking to my neck. "Well I wasn't."

He plopped down Indian-style on the edge of the pool, pulling out a cigarette.

"I just didn't really know what to say," I hedged carefully.

It was quiet for a long time.

He eyes flickered up at me, staring, his lips pulled into a thin line. "I meant what I said."

"About what?" I whispered.

He lit his cigarette, taking a drag and looking up at the haggard sky. "About falling in love with you."

"You can't." Suddenly, my voice was weak. It sounded too small.

He smiled sadly, still gazing up. "Too late."

"Please don't." I was begging.

I don't think I could've ever wanted something as much as I didn't, in that moment.

He leaned forward, his brows knitted, his emerald eyes burning. "Am I allowed to ask why?"

"No." I said, wishing the water would swallow me whole.

"I didn't think so," His voice was calm, at war with the expression on his face. "That's fine, because I already know the answer."

I could hear my breaths, they sounded loud, bouncing against the surface. "Where's Rose?"

"I know you don't trust me, I know you think that I hurt her, but fuck, Bella, you _did _this."

"I didn't do anything."

"I know you think I'm a selfish bastard and maybe I am for saying this but I want you."

"Stop."

"No, _you _stop." He stood up, his cigarette forgotten on the ground, his fists balled up tight, hair curling on into his eyes. "I'm tired of all your self-sacrificing bullshit. You don't take it from anyone else, you make people bare themselves before you and want all they have to give but you're too fucking scared to do the same for yourself."

"Shut up."

"You deserve this, Bella. Whatever it is that you're thinking, you're wrong and you know this is right."

"You don't know me, Edward." My lips were mashed together.

"Well, let me!" He ran his hands through his hair, agitated. "Would you just—can you please just…let me?"

I blinked, realizing that my eyes were wet. "You're _leaving_."

He inhaled quickly, his jaw tightening. And he knew. He _knew._

A sob built its way up my throat but it was stuck there. Stuck because I wouldn't let it out. Wouldn't acknowledge the fact that my body was mourning. I backed away from him, treading water halfheartedly; my limbs achy and tired as I forced myself swim away from him.

"Bella, knock it off, come back here. Look, I'm not stupid…I just thought—" His voice was cut off by a frustrated growl and I turned my head just in time to see him dive into the pool.

I stopped, watching as his head and shoulders emerged, his clothes soaked and his hair plastered to his forehead.

"Go away. It's better this way." I moved away when he stroked towards me.

"How is this _better_?" He ground out.

His face was set in angry lines. He was pissed.

He was getting closer. "Stay away," I warned as my back hit the other side of the pool.

He kept moving forward, his eyes darkening with fury. He came to a stop right in front of me, the warmth of his body charging the hairsbreadth of space between us, his two hands braced against the wall on either side of my head. "Tell me again," he breathed against my lips, his eyes still holding mine.

"Stay away," I whispered.

"Why?" He whispered back.

I took him in-pale skin and purple circles and long fingers-the words leaving my mouth in a rush. "Because I'm terrified."

"Of what?"

_No more lies. _"Of falling in love with you."

"You shouldn't be."

"Why?"

"Because I'll always be here."

I exhaled fast, annoyed. "No, you don't get it, you're going away."

His eyes turned cautious, carefully scrutinizing my expression. "Why does that even matter?"

"It matters because I don't want you to be _everything_ when—"

"When what?" He grasped my chin, holding me there. Tying me down before I could float away.

I pressed my lips together so that maybe I could keep some part of myself…to myself. I couldn't give him all of me.

It was just too hard.

"What more do you want me to say, Bella?" He asked when I didn't answer.

"Nothing. Don't say anything." I was grasping at straws-my thoughts and heart and head pounding—desperately searching for any excuse I could throw at him to deflect his burning gaze. "You-you're a liar and I'm not going to let myself—"

His eyes hardened at the clumsy jab and he pressed himself closer to me. I gasped at the contact. He bobbed his head in confirmation- and then, "That's what I am now, a liar? Really mature of you, Bella."

"Well…why should I believe you when you—you say things like that?" I gulped out as his mouth got daringly close to mine.

"Because they're true."

"Bull—"

"You just don't want to believe it. That's your problem, you don't want to admit the fact that somebody—God forbid—loves you—"

"Why should I?" I blanched, "Why should I care that you're going to God-knows-where after graduation? That I'll probably never see you again? Don't you see how it doesn't even matter-"

His hips pushed into mine, emphasizing the importance of his words. I bit back another gasp. "Because I want to be with you."

I shoved my hands against his chest, but I'm not sure whether it was to push or pull or clutch or grab but they stayed there just the same, warmed by his heat. "I've never even seen your house, or your parents, and fuck, Edward, I don't even know what I'm doing with you—"

"Isn't that the point?"

I stared dumbly at him.

"If you knew what you were doing…all this shit would just be boring and predictable and _fucking _hell. You don't need to know what you're doing, Isabella, you don't need to _understand_ what the future holds, you don't need to act like you've got it all together." He exhaled harshly, "Just tell me if you don't think that right here, right now, we don't belong together."

"Stop trying to change the subject—"

"Tell me you never want to see me again."

"Edward, knock it off—"

"Tell me you hate me."

"This isn't a game—"

"Tell me to go away to college and never come back,"

"Let me go, I don't—"

"Tell me you want to me to _fuck _Lauren seven ways 'til Sunday." His eyes were mocking me as my breath came out in a short hiss before I could stop it.

"Lie." His lips smoothed over the word, his voice pure velvet and I remembered why it used to send shivers down my spine.

"I—"

"You wanted the truth, right? Well here it is Bella, and guess what? Even you, shining knight in armor that you are, can't man up and face it."

"Fuck you, Edward."

"Oh, I want you to, there's no doubt about that."

We both paused, our breaths mixing and a _something _in the shared air between us was charged and heavy and teetering between sex and compromise.

Give and take.

The muffled sun—one I wasn't entirely sure was the sun at all—watched us.

_It's too late_, I thought, ironically repeating his words. _I've already fallen._

_Hard._

I opened my mouth, his lips and his eyes and that unruly hair too close but somehow just right, and said, "I want this summer to be ours. Can you give me that?"

He touched his forehead to mine, the scent of smoke and chlorine and skin filling my senses and I knew.

"Okay," he whispered.

And it was.

* * *

"Bella," Rosalie called. I broke away from Edward's arms out of habit and the silly boy laughed at me, bending down to plant a wet kiss on my shoulder.

I tried to suppress the shiver. I really did.

He chuckled again.

Rosalie was giving me one of those sympathetic looks. I'd been getting a lot of those from her lately. When did things become so backward?

Oh yeah.

Maybe it was when I taught her how to fight and she fucking punched me in the mouth.

_Hah. _

She bent down at the edge of the pool, her bare knees touching the cement, and dipped her fingers into the water. The tips of her hair fell forward and danced along the surface. I was struck by the simplicity of her grace.

I think Edward saw it to. Almost as if sensing my doubt, his hand slid along the edge of my hip, thumb pressing urgently into the bone. Soothing me.

She looked up at me, her eyes smiling sadly. "You should head home."

"I thought we wanted to do this together." I spoke each word carefully, waiting.

"I think Edward and I need to face this alone. Together." She was reassuring me, telling me that she was fine, she was going to be okay. "We started it, right?"

She looked to Edward just once for support. He nodded silently behind me. I could feel it.

I wasn't too sure. "But—"

"Bella," Edward cut in, "You should go."

"Well, I think I should stay." I said, defiant.

Edward laughed again and I knew he was shaking his head and giving the sky that look that said, _look at her, isn't she just ridiculous?_

"Edward…" Rosalie called, her fingers still splayed, strands of her hair wet and dripping.

"Rosalie?"

Her blue eyes were somber but the corners of her mouth tugged up, her secret revealed before her words could. "Bella's coming with me next year."

"Hey—" I cut in, offended at her placement of words.

"Dammit," Edward replied, playing along for her sake, stitching her back up one thread at a time, "That's not fair, Rosie, that's not what we agreed to."

"Excuse me—" I tried again.

"We're rooming together, too," She said again, haughty and laughing and I didn't have a retort because this…this was how she was meant to look. This was how she was supposed to laugh and breathe and live.

Like she was free.

Edward was strangely silent.

The hand along my hip tightened beneath the water.

Rose stared at the boy behind me, her eyebrow quirked. "Jealous?"

"Extremely."

Rosalie giggled again, giddy.

I leaned back, sighing, content in her liberty. Edward's arms locked around me like they never wanted to let go.

"You're leaving, too." He whispered, his words tickling me ear.

"Yes," I whispered back, trying not to choke on my words as I watched the ends of Rosalie's hair darken. "I know."

He hummed in my ear, his thumb tapping, "I'll be right back."

"Rose?" He called, swimming over.

"Hmm?" She answered, not looking up the lapping water.

"What time is it?"

I could barely hold in my laughter, I knew what he was up to.

"Five-thirty," She noticed his wet clothes as he got closer, "Edward, why are you—"

She squeaked as he reached up and got a good grip on her arm, and pulled back hard, her body tumbling into the water before she could escape his grasp. My huge fit of giggles echoed all around as Rosalie emerged, coughing and wet, her hair everywhere.

She splashed Edward as soon as she got her bearings, quickly accepting that most of her clothes would probably be ruined. He swam back to hide behind me and Rose came at me, biting her lip and looking like the devil as she sent a massive tidal wave my way.

"That's not fair-" I managed to get out before my mouth filled with water.

Edward snickered just as another wave collided with my face.

"Rose, I'm gonna fucking—" I warned.

"_What_ in heaven's name is going on here?" A delicate voice screeched from the patio.

We all froze. Rosalie was the first to recover. "Hi, mom. You're home early. Where's dad?"

Evelyn walked closer to the pool, her eyes narrowing upon seeing me. Edward moved to shield me from her harsh gaze and I placed a hand on his arm to reassure him.

She zeroed in on my hand. "My board meeting was cancelled but I had to stop off at the grocery to get dinner. Your father had some last minute things to finish at the office, he'll be home soon. Edward, you're here early."

Just a normal conversation, right?

Wrong.

Her eyes never left mine.

I lifted my eyebrows haughtily. I wasn't part of her game. "What's for dinner?" I asked innocently.

_Time to see if that Botox was worth it, bitch. _

Her chin pulled down, a glare slowly working its way up her otherwise robotic features. "You're not staying." She replied coldly.

"Mother!" Rose cut in, pulling herself up onto the ledge.

"Why are your clothes all wet, Rosalie?"

"Isn't it obvious," she said, gesturing between her and the pool.

"Don't take that tone with me, young lady, you know exactly what I mean." She said sharply.

I couldn't help it. I giggled. It was contagious. I couldn't stop.

Edward's fingers slid down my back, index finger pressing against my spinal cord. My giggled turned breathy towards the end of it.

"What is _she _doing here?" Mother Dearest asked as her daughter stalked toward her, dripping.

"Mom."

"I specifically told you never to associate with her ever again—"

"Mom."

"Your father made it very clear—"

"Mom!"

"And can't you see what a horrible influence—"

"Edward and I broke up." She crossed her arms, daring her mom to argue against that.

Evelyn looked stricken. The skin across her forehead stretched and pulled and in that moment, I felt like I could see all her flaws. "What-what did you say?" She stammered.

"Edward. And. I. Are. Over. Done. Finished." She sounded out each word with mocking precision.

I had the decency not to laugh. Edward however, didn't. He laughed into my neck.

Evelyn's head cocked in our direction, her tiny hands fisting at her sides as she took in Edward's obvious fawning. Those cold, dead eyes pinned me again. "You."

There was a painful stretch of silence.

"Yes, hullo. Bella Swan, nice to meetcha." I rattled off, filled with a sudden burst of courage.

Rosalie chuckled, drawing Evelyn's attention.

"How could you do this?" She accused her daughter.

"Mom, I'm going to NYU. I'm rooming with Bella." She said firmly, ignoring her question.

"I-I don't understand…you are not doing anything of the sort Rosalie Hale, you are not allowed to see this girl any longer…" She stumbled on her words, fumbled for any form of authority on which to draw, "How could you let her ruin your relationship…and now…you're enabling her to ruin your future? Everything you've worked so hard for and you're just going to let it all go to waste—"

"I'm eighteen years old, Ma."

Evelyn's face hardened. And then, beneath all that shimmering glamour. She turned as pink as her expensive salmon colored suit.

She was pissed.

Next thing I knew, she was marching over to me. "How dare you, insolent girl! You think you can come into my home—"

I pushed out of the pool, climbing up onto the cement so we could at least be on the same level. She took a step back when my wet clothes got too close to her dry-cleaned ones.

"Be careful," I warned, "wouldn't want you to catch any of my middle-class cooties. I hear they're extremely dangerous."

"Stay away from my daughter, Bella…or I will see that your father finds himself out of a job. I can ensure that his reputation around here will get mean nothing, at least no more than a bumbling fisherman deserves." Her eyes turned to slits, her mouth twisted with loathing. "You also can be sure that I will give a phone call to my colleagues down at New York University, I'm sure they would love to hear about how you've taken advantage of charity money in the past—"

"That's quite enough, Mrs. Hale."

"Oh but Bella, I could go on," she replied, smiling that condescending smile she knew I hated.

"I'm sure you could. But I actually need to be going. Charlie will be expecting dinner." I said, moving to walk past her.

"You think I jest, Ms. Swan?"

I whipped back around and tried not to snarl. "Your husband is an alcoholic. Your daughter is not going to an Ivy League school. Your son-in-law will _not_ be Edward. And you live in the fucking scariest house in Forks." I took a breath, meeting her eyes, "So to be honest, I'm not afraid of you."

Her lips hung open as if to say something, but no words came out. She looked like a fish, mouth opening and closing.

I turned to Rosalie, "Good luck."

She nodded back, smiling, pushing my cheek playfully.

Edward was just…there. I felt his hand on my back as I walked away from everything.

But right before I shut the front door I caught Evelyn's voice screaming, "…just wait until your father gets home!"

And I had to crack a smile.

* * *

"You've reached Renee Dwyer. Do your thing at the beep!"

Graduation was a week away.

"Hey…it's me. I –uh…was just calling…" I stopped.

Charlie had been begging me to call her.

And to be honest, I sort of missed the way she talked. The way her syllables always jumbled together, her whimsical thoughts always two steps ahead of her words.

"God, just give me a call back, whenever you have time. If you want to…" I scrambled, my prepared speech suddenly forgotten. "If you don't…well, just don't then."

I hung up and stared at my screen.

_Call me if you still, kind of, love me. Call me if you are a little bit sorry. Because I'll take whatever you have to give. _

Just give me something.

Please.

I realized I hadn't said who I was. I wondered if she would even recognize my voice.

The thought wouldn't sound so tragic if I pretended I didn't care.

Pretending, I had learned, was just another form of saving face.

A way to protect yourself when you feel as if one small fissure—a small, firmly applied pressure—can be your undoing.

* * *

**IF you're curious about Rose and Edward's conversation in the kitchen, it can be found in the outtakes. **

**Things seem to be winding down (sort of)…but your reviews are still a source of welcomed motivation.**


	25. Spinning

" 'You know, I have a dream every night that I'm running my lips down along her spine, like a skiff down the river.' "

-Colum McCann, _Let the Great World Spin_

* * *

Monday morning dawned beautifully.

Actually, that's a lie.

I awoke from my three hours of blissful sleep to the sound of my phone ringing incessantly at some godawful hour.

I scowled at the morning light peeking hesitantly through my window. My hand searched blindly for the phone, sliding clumsily along my night table, knocking everything over, including the damn thing which—annoyingly enough—wouldn't stop ringing.

When I finally was able to get it open, I was pissed, tired, and well. Pissed.

"Jake!" I growled into the phone.

"Hello Bella," he replied, chipper as ever.

"This better be fucking important." It seemed my tone couldn't develop into anything more than a snarl.

"I take it you're not a morning person." I could hear smirk in his voice.

"No shit."

"Sorry."

"No, you're not." I could feel a grin tugging my lips despite my squinty eyes.

"No, I'm not," he amended.

I checked the clock on my desk. "Jesus Christ, do you mind telling me why you called at fucking 6 o'clock in the morning?"

"Language, Bella."

"Speak now or I'm hanging up the phone and going back to bed."

"You and I both know you won't fall back asleep."

"Your point, Jake?" I sighed.

"I miss you."

"I still don't see why you couldn't wait another couple of hours to tell me." I rubbed my eyes.

"Because I miss you?" He repeated, this time sounding less sure of himself.

"Right."

He paused, deliberating. "Let's get out of here. I'll pick you up and we can just take a break from everything."

I sighed again, hating the sound of it. "I can't. I do have to go to school, you know."

"Come on, Bellsa, it's your last week of high school," he whined. "You can't spare just one day?"

"I have…" I stopped, searching for the right word. "Obligations."

He snorted. "Oh, like making sure you don't trip on your graduation gown?"

I opened my mouth to say something that would probably make my mom blush but then I considered the high chances of that actually happening and instead I said, "Look, I just can't ok?"

I could picture his face smoothing over, concern building in his eyes. "Sure, Bells. That's fine."

A long silence drifted between us.

"Sorry for snapping at you," I finally whispered.

He didn't reply.

"Jake—" I started to say.

"So, are you one of them now?"

I looked at my phone in confusion, marveling at how quick this boy switched gears. "What the fuck is _that _supposed to mean?"

"Jesus, Bella, seriously? Don't get all high and mighty on me. I don't know what to think-people are starting to say stuff and you haven't returned any of my –"

"Fuck you, Jake. I don't answer to you…or anyone else in this town."

"—phone calls."

I took a deep breath. "And when did you start giving a shit about what people think?"

"God, Bella. They were talking about _you_. Why shouldn't I—"

"Yeah?" My anger rose to a new level. "Well call the fucking cops, Jake. It's not like gossip is a crime in this stinking town. If it was, well, everyone would be a criminal. And second of all, I'm a big girl. It's not your job to look out for me. I don't need you to protect me all the time."

"Oh that's right, because you have Edward now." His voice was calm. Cold.

It hurt.

Because I didn't really mean what I was saying…I was just going off of blind feeling.

Forcing my walls back up again. My defense mechanism.

Because that's what I do, right?

I push people away.

That's what I'm good at.

"You're such a hypocrite, you know that?" He said, and it was a quiet accusation.

It left me smarting.

"Yeah." I replied. "We all are."

"How can you even—" He huffed in aggravation and then started again. "Are you even _hearing _yourself right now?"

"Yes, Jake. I read you and me and everyone else in the whole fucking world loud and clear."

And then I did hear myself. I sounded dead—weak and tired.

"Well then, fucking listen to what I'm saying." He seethed.

"What _are_ you saying?"

"I'm saying…" He paused. "I'm saying don't forget…about me. About what you used to be."

"Oh stop being ridiculous, you act like I've changed or something…But God, Jake, I'm still exactly-"

I stopped.

Maybe I was lying to myself.

I had changed.

But not because I was a pansy or because I wanted to be in or out or anywhere at all or because like everyone else in high school, I wanted to be cool and popular and _seen_.

I did it because I was desperate for something.

Because I wanted to reach out blindly and fall in love and take a risk and just God…be _different_.

We listened to each others' breaths for I don't know how long.

_No._

_I'm not one of them._

I mouthed the words, longing for them to come out.

To be voiced.

_I'm not one of them._

"I—" My voice choked off, because suddenly—out of nowhere—I sort of, kind of, felt grown-up.

No more running.

"Jake, do you remember what you told me that one night? When you gave me those gloves?"

"I remember." He finally said, but it was grated, aged. "I told you that—"

"I'm me." I murmured.

And it was sort of freeing.

"Bella…"

"Talk is shit, Jake. Life is shit. The whole thing…is just shit." I pulled the covers up to my chin. "But when it's suddenly not shit and free and bearable…you realize that there's a world out there…with people and places and dreams hanging from the clouds…that there are so many things to see, to breathe. Things you need—"

I stopped again, the fuzziness of sleep fading. "You're suddenly alive again."

* * *

I stomped down the stairs, tripping on the last step. It had nothing to do with the fact that I couldn't open my eyes more than a squint.

"Christ," I muttered.

I stumbled into the kitchen, my eyes zeroing in on the coffee machine.

"Morning, Bells."

I whipped around and squinted further at my father, who was sitting at the table looking over the morning paper.

"Hi Dad." I mumbled. "Coffee?"

"I already have a cup, thanks. There's plenty left over."

"Thank God," I muttered as I reached for my mug. The only mug I used for coffee. Ever.

After putting in the required sugar and cream I leaned back against the counter, blowing into my cup and letting my fingers be warmed.

"I don't usually see you putting around this early, kid."

"I don't know if putting around is what I'd call it."

He barked a laugh, raising his coffee mug in mock salute.

I stared down at my coffee.

"You've been quiet lately," Charlie said, not prying or curious, just letting me steer.

I thought of my conversation with Jacob, his words echoing around in my head. _Let's go somewhere._

_Let's get out of here._

_Okay_, was what I finally told him. _Just not today._

_Live on the edge a little, Bellsa. _

_You worry too much._

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Took a deep breath. Then opened it again."This whole college thing…I just don't really know if it's for me."

He looked at me not in surprise, not in that taken-aback-out-of-nowhere-deer-in-the-headlights way, but just pure Charlie. His warm eyes comforting me with that calm stare.

"How do you mean?" He asked slowly.

I swallowed. "Well, I just have no idea what I want to do—"

"Stop right there." I looked up, startled, and met his stern gaze. "That's exactly what college is for. I'd be worried if you _did_ know exactly what you wanted to do."

"But—"

"No buts, Bella. I'm just proud to have a daughter who made the wise decision to even go to college."

"Even if I decide I want to be a philosophy major?" I blew on my coffee some more.

"Even then," he said, chuckling. "But Bella…you gotta let yourself _live_ a little. You're smart, I know you're smart—I mean, you're my baby—and I trust that you'll make the right decisions in the long run, but honey…I just want to see you _happy_."

I let the word sink into me, wondering what it meant. What my definition of happiness was. And looking into my dad's crinkly coffee eyes, I thought I could almost grasp the edges of it.

"What about you, tough guy? How you ever gonna survive without me?" I tested the contents of my mug.

He yawned, rubbing his belly, his eyes back on the newspaper. "I have no idea."

I trudged back up the stairs to take a shower. I thought about words like happy and fulfillment and satisfaction as I stared at the suds gathering around the drain.

As I wiped off the perspiration on my mirror, I thought about change. I mean, it doesn't really ever hit you, does it? It's not this crash collision that occurs suddenly, stealing your breath away.

It's sort of gradual.

It's sort of cyclical.

It sneaks up on you.

And before you know it…you see the person in the mirror. And she's different—a little more worse for wear, a little bit aged, a tired glint in her eye, a hidden smirk on her lips, that dimple in her chin—and you realize…that she kind of looks familiar.

She kind of…sort of…looks like you.

* * *

A careful finger traced the dark circle beneath my right eye. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

I surveyed the mystery man before me, all scruff and sweatshirt and warm. "Can't sleep."

He sat down across from me, obviously not pacified by my answer. I traced an etching in the cold, stone table we currently occupied. Class started in five minutes.

He tugged off the hood of my jacket. My wet hair tumbled out.

"Christ, Bella you're gonna catch fucking pneumonia!" His voice was half serious, half laughing.

"Yes, Edward, of course I am. In the middle of June." I leveled my eyes at him, a smile curving my lips at the sight of his playful gaze.

"Hmmm," he murmured, pulling me closer and sliding his fingers into my cold hair. "You smell nice."

His lips pressed against the corner of my mouth. "You smell like smoke."

I turned my head so his lips could just touch mine already.

"You like it," He chuckled against my mouth.

* * *

I'm laying in the bed of my truck attempting to blow smoke rings, when Rosalie suddenly sighs beside me.

"Look at that little patch of blue sky right there, between the clouds." She points a finger up, waving away my smoke.

I squint my eye. "Yeah, I see it. What's so great about it?"

She sighs again. "I don't know. I love stuff like that."

I flick my cigarette. "Stuff like what?"

She sits up, looking down at me disdainfully. "You know…stuff that you don't really see at first…that you can miss if you're not looking carefully. But when you do see it…and it's there, you wonder how you could've ever missed it in the first place."

I thought of the day that I first saw her.

The day I first saw her, truly and vulnerable and so goddamn real, that it choked me.

I observed her baggy jeans and cut-off shirt and quiet laughter and thought, _this was worth it._

"God." I tipped my head back, suddenly a bit dizzy and high, high off of life. "High school, man."

Rosalie was silent for a time, staring at that blue puzzle piece in the sky, the one that matched her eyes. "Yeah." She looked at me, poised and knowing and no longer a ghost. "I know exactly what you mean."

And that was when I realized Rosalie Hale…the girl who was once lost and existing in a shell of herself…was reborn with laugh lines and headbands with bows and biting wit.

And goddamn…that was just…well, that was _it_.

Completion and rites of passages and all that jazz.

"So this is where you guys sneak off to at lunch…" A familiar voice snuck into my epiphany. I reached for another cig, while Rose put her hands in the air.

"You caught us," she giggled.

I stole a quick glance at the boy who made my heart pound, only to quickly look away upon meeting his too-green ones.

"Very nice," he complimented, taking in the scenery of the surrounding neighborhood.

"I quite like it," I responded, trying not to look at him in all his disheveled glory.

He snagged my cigarette, taking a long drag. I tried to ignore the way his eyes lingered on me, the cold touch of his fingers pressed against mine for less than a second.

Rose just laughed at us.

"Em's looking for you." Edward informed Rosalie.

"Is he now?"

He bobbed his head. "He gets lonely around this time."

Rosalie chuckled again. "The big baby…" she muttered under her breath. She looked up at me suddenly. "Hey, what are you wearing for graduation, Bella?"

I looked to Edward for help. "Uhhh, jeans and a t-shirt?"

For a second, it looked like Rose might actually cry. Edward shook with silent laughter. "W-what about the after-party?"

I stuttered over my answer, scared shitless she might burst into tears. "I wasn't actually planning on going to that…"

"Bella," she shifted onto her knees, into begging position, "will you please, please let me take you shopping? Just this one time…it won't be horrible, I promise!"

I wondered when she decided to dye her hair black and lose a good six inches. "Can you guarantee that?"

She nodded her head vigorously.

I sighed in resignation. "Alright. But you owe me like a shitton of baked goods. And I'm gonna hold you to that."

"We're not going to the after-party," Edward whispered into my ear.

Rosalie stood up, brushing off the invisible lint on her jeans. "I heard that, Edward Cullen!"

I grabbed my cigarette back as Rose hopped over the side of the truck.

"I'm gonna go get my prince in shining armor." She huffed, strutting away, her blond hair whooshing from side to side.

Edward and I snickered. "It's knight in shining—"

She turned quickly, flipping us off with both hands, before turning around again to continue said strutting.

Edward grabbed my waist, pulling me over the side to where he stood.

"Hi," he said, just looking at me.

"Hi." I said back.

I took a breath, blindly reaching for his hand. And when his fingers twisted with mine, and we were one—pulling and grasping—it didn't really hurt anymore.

* * *

**You guys are all so lovely. I am so sorry about the wait. School year just kicked back up again so everything's a bit hectic around here. Please, please know that you have my sincerest apologies for making you wait so godawfully long.**

**Until next chapter. **


	26. Alexithymia

**It had literally been forever since I posted but again, thank you for being faithful and for holding out on me. **

**You guys are still so awesome. **

**This one goes out to erica, because she has such classy taste in music, and to sah, for sending me texts whenever it rains. **

**SM owns the characters, I just own the adolescent angst.**

* * *

"_If you would be a real seeker after truth, it is necessary that at least once in your life you doubt, as far as possible, all things."_ –Rene Descartes

* * *

"Rose, tell me we're almost done." I moaned from beneath a pile of clothes. "_Please._"

"Bella, you're not a very pliant victim." A deep voice called out from the somewhere.

"Jake, you shut up. You're lucky I even told her about this place."

"Well, Bella, I think Rose is trying to accomplish something here and you're just being a major pain in the ass." He retorted, mocking me.

"Hey listen shitface, nobody asked for your opinion—"

"BUTTMUNCHER!" Jake yelled at me.

"WANKER!"

"Alright, I think that's quite enough." Rosalie opened up the dressing room door and stared down at me.

"Bella, trying on these clothes doesn't mean lying around in your under garments, it actually means _trying on these clothes_."

"Did someone say under garments?" Jake called out again.

I blew the hair out of my mouth. Rosalie threw some more dresses at me. She shut the door and leaned against it, pursing her lips expectantly.

Her eyes drifted down to my cotton panties. "Very sexy," she said through her smirk.

I glared at her and unzipped the closest thing on a hanger. "Yeah well you're lucky I wore underwear today."

I could hear Jake's unmistakable snicker echoing through the doorway.

Three pairs of jeans ("Your jeans either have holes in them or they're falling off"), five skirts ("show some leg, for Christ sakes"), two shirts ("Oh my god, you _do_ have boobs"), and one horribly extravagant dress ("this is your high school graduation, Bella") later, Jake was bartering with Rosalie over…well…my life.

"Bella can't do Wednesday or Thursday because she'll be with me, and Friday is graduation, and after that, well she'll probably be with me all the time so I guess you should just piss off—"

"-Hey I was wondering if maybe someone could actually let me pay for my shit—" I tried to cut in.

"—I don't really remember her appointing you supreme ruler of her _life_ so if you'll excuse me, I'd like to ask _my friend _when she can hang out this week—" Jake shot right back.

"-because I'm not a charity case and oh look somebody is getting _robbed_ just outside the store-" I tried in vain again, pointing my finger.

"-I am nothing of the sort, you egotistical little brat, I am simply being practical and sensitive to Bella's free time-"

"—oh so now I'm the insensitive one? Boy, you are really something special…it's no wonder Cullen couldn't—"

"JACOB, TAKE MY DAMN CARD!" I threw it at his chest.

Rose, breathless, cut in, "Oh no, Bella, it's my treat."

I shot her a murderous glare.

Her eyes widened.

"Bella, I don't know if you want to pay for all this—" Jake started.

I growled at him.

"Okay, well." He handed me back my card and receipt. "Try not to bare your teeth on the way out, might scare some innocent bystander."

"Hilarious, Jacob Black." I said, grabbing my bags. "I'll call you, okay? I promise."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'll be here."

Rosalie hooked her arm through mine. "Thanks for your help, Jacob. It was somewhat pleasant to meet you," she called over her shoulder as we walked out of the store.

He laughed. "You too!" He hacked behind a sarcastic cough.

I shot him a _be-nice_ stare over my shoulder and walked out the door.

Rose huffed as we talked toward her car and I attempted to tug down my too short dress while holding three shopping bags.

"Can I smoke in your car?"

"Jesus, Bella," she replied, starting the engine. "Keep the window down."

I lit my cig and took a long drag. "So." I leveled her with a stare. "Sad to be graduating?"

"Sad?" Rose repeated, looking at me curiously. "I wouldn't say sad. Relieved maybe. But not sad."

I watched the smoke filter out into the air whooshing past me. "Ah. You don't…regret anything?"

"Of course I do, Bella. God, who doesn't have regrets?" She sighed. "But I've come to find…that I'm just done living in the past. As of right now, I'm confident in my future. Which is the most accomplishing thing I've ever felt in my entire life, not gonna lie."

"Do you wish things were different?" I persisted. I continued to stare out the window. "Like it doesn't feel weird or anything?

I could feel her eyes on me. "No."

I didn't say anything.

"Bella?" Rosalie paused for a beat. "Do you wish things were different?"

"No," I said, taking another drag.

"Hmmm" was all Rose said back.

"I'm sorry, it's just hitting me that we're leaving and everything that used to be is not gonna be and it's just always been you and Edward and…" I took a deep breath, but the words seemed to tumble out of their own accord, "there was this one time…when Emmett told Edward to tell me the truth and what the fuck was the truth and what is the truth and do you really think that it's okay for me to just steal your future—"

"Hold on, Bella, slow down. _Steal my future_? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I just don't want you to do anything you don't want to do—"

"Bella."

"And god, I don't know, maybe your mother was right. Am I a bad influence?"

"Bella."

"What?"

"I'm an adult now. I can make my own decisions. _This _is my decision. So shut up and just let it be."

I squinted my eyes at her as my hair whipped against my face. "But…are you happy?"

"Psssh. Happy. What does that even mean?"

I stuck my head out of the window and welcomed the way the wind cut at my cheeks.

* * *

I watched Rosalie open the front door of my house and had to laugh.

"It's about time." A voice bellowed. "Edward here was getting all nervous."

Rosalie and I walked into my living room, setting our bags down and surveying the two quite dashing men lounging on my couch like they'd always been there.

"Looks as if you two have made yourselves comfortable." Rosalie sniffed, but her smile gave her away. "I smell popcorn!"

Emmett followed her into the kitchen.

" 'If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she's late? Nobody.' " I quoted softly to the copper-haired boy sitting in front of me.

Edward looked up at me lazily, his eyes doing a once over, lingering on my legs. "You _would _like that book."

I giggled.

"I see Rosalie had a fine time." He stood slowly. "You look lovely."

"Thank you."

He grabbed my hand.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" I whispered.

"Trust me." He poked at my stomach. "They've been playing footsie under the cafeteria table for like two years."

I gawked at him and yelled at the two lovebirds to bring the popcorn out already so I wouldn't jump Edward's bones right that second.

As I settled in against him, the movie' s beginning credits rolling, I couldn't help but look over at Rosalie as she fit herself beside Emmett. My eyes flitted from her pale face to his huge forearm, to her red cheeks and back to his soft eyes.

I looked up at Edward to find that he had been watching me the entire time.

"It's alright, Bella," his breath tickling my ears, "It's over now."

I sighed, my spine relaxing against his chest.

"We made it."

* * *

My phone was ringing.

Again.

There was something tragically wrong with my life.

I reached around, feeling t-shirt, chiseled chest, and blanket.

_Shit. _

I opened my eyes to a sleeping Edward. I got up slowly, noticing Rose and Emmett had fallen asleep on the other couch.

My eyes zeroed in on my phone across the room.

I sprinted toward it, grabbing it and running into the kitchen before answering.

"Hello?" I answered groggily.

"_Bella, darling, I'm so glad you picked up."_

"Mom?"

"_Yes, yes. I got your message. You sounded a bit under the weather, is everything alright?"_

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Everything's just peachy."

I waited.

"So. Was there a reason you called?"

"_Well, I wanted call and let you know that I'm going to try and make it out to your graduation this Friday. I got your message and you can't imagine how excited I am that my baby girl's finally graduating high school! I told Phil, 'I simply must be there when she gets her diploma.'"_

"That's great, Ma, I'm glad you can come."

I savored the drawn-out silence that followed.

"_Bella..." _She paused uneasily._ "I understand that you're angry at me. Heaven knows, I haven't been the greatest mother over the years. But I only want the best for you, sweetheart, you must know that. When you didn't return any of my calls, I…I started to worry—"_

I suppressed the sigh building up my throat at her sugarcoating of just every single thing going on in her life. "You know what, I really don't want to hear this right now—"

"_I love you, Bella. I do. You know that, don't you?"_

"Sure, Mom, whatever you say. Don't worry about it. Your penance has been paid. You're free to go about doing whatever it was that you were doing before you remembered about the child of your yesteryears."

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes at the shrill turn of her voice.

"_Bella, that is completely unfair. This is not about me and my mistakes. I want to see you happy. And I'm willing to support you in any way that I can. I know this may be a confusing time for you and all that adolescent stuff is swirling about…"_

I choked out a sarcastic laugh and the window above the kitchen sink started to get blurry. "It isn't about you, huh? Why don't you tell that to Charlie?"

I heard her breath intake sharply_. "Where has this hostility suddenly come from, Isabella?"_

"I haven't the faintest idea." I droned, mocking her formal tone. "Maybe it's all this 'adolescent stuff swirling about.'"

"_How very mature of you. I just don't understand you. I thought that Charlie was taking care of everything and that you were doing great in school and from the pictures I've gotten from him, you're a beautiful girl. What exactly is the matter?" _

"Oh mother." I swiped at my eyes. "I just grew up."

It was quiet for a long time.

"_I see. Well, I would still like to see you at your graduation if that's alright with you. You're still my daughter."_

"I would love for you to come." I replied, and the words sort of hurt.

"_Wonderful. I'll ask Charlie for the details. Phil might be able to take off work." _

"Okay. I can't wait to see you."

"_Bella?"_

"Yeah?"

"_I'm sorry."_

My eyes closed.

"_And I love you."_

I listened to her breathe for a bit.

"Love you too, Mom."

I hung up the phone and went out on the back porch, fishing through my pockets for my bow of cigarettes.

You know when your eyes just ache, but not because you want to cry, or because the world is so goddamn hard to look at sometimes, or because you're just sick of _watching _the same things over and over again (though all of these things are true)?

But when they ache because you're _tired _of just thinking all those things?

My fists pushed against the sockets, willing away the pressure building behind them.

I glared spitefully at the dawn. I didn't have the heart to try and remember the last time I saw one.

The grey mist was soothing against my face.

"What are you doing?"

I blew out smoke and looked up over my shoulder at him. "Sitting."

Edward took a seat next to me.

"That's gonna give you cancer." He said, nodding at the box next to me.

I took a drag, assessing his bedhead, the way his sleepy eyes crinkled. "I know."

"You should quit."

"I should."

"Does your dad know?"

"Nope." I let my 'p' pop obnoxiously.

He ducked his head, scratching his chin.

I finished the cigarette.

The grey sky widened and breathed, cushioning us in its smoky morning loll. I stared at the yard I used to play superhero in when I was nine and rambunctious and when I wished I wasn't an only child with a dad who got nervous every time I asked him if he liked my dress.

"So we're graduating pretty soon—" I started.

"Why did you do it?" Edward cut in.

I looked at him.

He cracked his knuckles. Nervous habit.

"Do…" I let the end syllable drop off slowly.

"Save her?"

I looked at him, confused.

He huffed in frustration. "What exactly…just made Rose worth saving to you?"

I reached for another cigarette. "I didn't save her."

Edward's hand closed over mine, his sea green eyes trapping me in place. "Hey…talk to me…it's just us right now. I'm simply asking you what…in particular, inspired you to…I dunno…reach out to her? I mean, what did you see in her?"

I attempted to understand what exactly he was asking me.

"I…she…it's just…well…I couldn't…" I stopped abruptly, trying to find my words.

He continued to look at me in that unwavering way he has.

I picked at a piece of wood, looking away. "She was just so…lost, Edward. She needed a friend."

He shook his head, "Yeah but so what? Everyone is, Bella, come on, think about it. Why her? Stop putting up your walls with me. _Think._"

I gritted my teeth, trying to give him what he was looking for. "I don't know—"

"I heard you. In the kitchen, you know." His gaze hardened. "Congratulations on your mom being able to attend your graduation."

I scowled at his calculated words and bit back a choke at the unexpected blow. "What the hell does _that _have anything to do with it?"

He stared back at me expectantly.

My eyes continued to burn.

"Do you remember that party…where I kissed you in the hallway and you were drunk and I asked you all these stupid questions and punched James and Rose was high and you thought it was all a test?"

"I had no idea it was a test, asshole," I spit at him.

"Yeah, okay, I'll give you that. But…you passed, didn't you?" He continued earnestly, his words coming too fast. "You put up with all her weird shit and Rose was happy and she could trust and live and learn to be herself again. Do you see what I mean? If this was all for her…I just want to know why you did it."

"I passed because…what? I didn't continue to suck your face off? Because I wasn't using Rosalie to get into your pants? Well whoop-da-fucking-do. What kind of fucked-up person do you think I am? You can't just play around with people like that, Edward. This is real, don't you see? It's not a game anymore! I don't give a flying fuck what you guys think is the norm around here so don't go trying to involve me in all this psychoanalytical bullshit—"

"You make it sound like it would be you taking advantage of me," he smirked. "And shut up, it's _me_. I'm over the high school drama, I know very well what we were doing and hell, it _worked. _You passed because you weren't trying to get in with us or be seen with us or be like us. You wanted to be Rosalie's _friend._ Can't you see what I'm trying to tell you—"

"How dare you just…fucking manipulate the truth…about _everything _and then suddenly want to know what made _me _do what I did! God, Emmett was right." I turned away.

Edward reached out and grabbed my elbow. "What _the fuck_ is that supposed to mean?"

"Look, you and Rose, I mean…I could sense it, okay? Things weren't so great. Boo-hoo. It wasn't my intention to invade your lives or break you guys up or turn you into rebels or whatever. That shit's just adolescence in its prime. But _come on _you can't just use people and pretend like they don't feel anything either. Maybe the truth really doesn't matter to you guys."

"Whoa, hold on. I'm not accusing you of anything, Bell. You're right, we were wrong to put you in that situation. Dem knew that. Dem _warned _me about that. I understood that. But…there's just something about you, something that disarms all of convention around here. It's exhilarating to watch and see play out and god, if you—"

I rolled my eyes. "Enough. I don't wanna hear it—"

"Oh stop."

"No _you _stop, Edward. I'm not some girl here to put on some cheap show for you guys. This is my life and I don't give a two shits about tests or convention or what-the-fuck-ever. Give me a break. I thought we were freaking past this shit already—"

"Would you just quit being all defensive and just answer my goddamn question?" He interrupted again, his gaze holding mine.

I could feel the heat spreading up my neck. "You know…god…I'm sorry you guys have no idea what it means to see someone hurting… I'm so freaking sorry you don't know what it feels like to see someone so lost that you can't do anything _but_ reach out to them and hope to God they hold on. Someone you have nightmares about, because there's this look in their eyes…like they're starving for life. People like that, people you need to just grab your hand so _you_ can stay afloat too…you don't forget about them and move on and oh_ ain't life grand _because all I do is mooch off the wealthy children of Forks—"

"What are you saying, Bella?" He'd grown still, barely moving.

I exhaled fast, mad at myself for rambling. "I'm saying it isn't about being a teenager and young and stupid or about how adults don't talk about how shitty it feels to grow up. I'm saying that when I looked at Rosalie, it was like looking at my own reflection…A reflection I'd been hiding from for years. And I just _really_ needed her to be okay…for my own sake."

It was quiet for a moment.

I tried to catch my breath. "So everyone needs to just quit with all this sainthood bullshit, because in all honestly, she saved _me_."

Edward watched me intently, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek.

"Yeah," he whispered. "You're one selfish girl."

I looked back at those eyes of storm and sadness and unspeakable pain and we couldn't say anything for a long time. Because suddenly it was good again and he was mine and I was glad to be his. And because I finally understood something about why I befriended that stone-cold girl in my math class.

I had been just as hopeless as her.

I was lost and drowning and wondering if I even wanted to know what it meant to be grown-up and successful and business casual.

But together…we were kind of invincible and it was suddenly okay to be afraid.

It was suddenly okay to…not know.

And just _live_.

"Demetri's back at school." He played with my lighter. Flicking it on, then off with his index finger. "He always asks about you."

I smiled fondly, not missing the frown that edged his lips. "Dem's too damn attractive for his own good. That kid needs to find himself a girl."

Edward chuckled softly, for me.

"You're not him, you know." I said. And it could've meant a lot of things. The words rang with startling familiarity.

His eyes shot back to mine, the flame still flickering. "I'm starting to see that."

"You're not." I said again, defiant.

He stared at me again and I lost all sense of time and space and life because that look…

The way his eyes could finally _see_ me—all of me—

I'll never forget that.

"I believe you." He finally replied.

And I knew that it was the truth.

* * *

When we came back inside the small living room, Rosalie was shuffling through her purse (probably for a toothbrush) and Emmett was flipping through the channels, completely at ease amidst the couch cushions.

I snickered at the way her hair was standing up in different places.

Her eyes shot to mine, sensing my mocking perusal, and stuck her tongue out at me. "Take a look in the mirror, Swan."

I shot her the double bird, ambling my way up the stairs to change out of my rumpled dress. "Go make me breakfast, woman."

I could hear Edward's footfalls behind me. "I think you look sexy," he whispered into my neck, making me almost trip on the last step.

I tried to shut the door on him but he breezed past me, sprawling himself across my bed.

"I have to change," I said, pulling clothes out of my dresser.

He cocked his eyebrow suggestively.

I grinned at him, making my way to the bathroom.

"You're evil," he shouted through the hall.

I threw on my clothes and brushed my teeth at ninja speed. After securing my hair into a ponytail and scrubbing my face with cold water, I hurried back into my room.

"Yeah whatever, _Jake_, just cut to the part where you're not a pretentious asshole," Edward was saying into a cell phone.

_My _cell phone.

"Excuse me—" I cut in.

Edward turned around and produced a framed picture of me and Renee, having removed it from where it usually sat face-down on the dresser.

"Since when was it okay to snoop around my room and answer my freaking phone?" I asked, exasperated, and trying to reach over his shoulder for my phone.

Edward grabbed both my hands in one and smiled at me with all his teeth, looking like a damn smug Cheshire cat.

Jake was still saying something on the other line.

"That's all fine and dandy, _Jake_, but she's mine. So go have your little friend time together but just know, you even so much as touch her and I will break your hand." He smiled at me again, for good measure.

I sneered at him.

He dropped my wrists and handed me my phone. "It's for you," he said, moving around the room to continue his perusal of my things.

"You are ridiculous!" I whispered furiously at him.

He shrugged at me, opening an old jewelry box that I never used.

"Sorry about that Jake," I said into the phone. "Edward is just—"

"—your boyfriend—" Edward interjected loudly.

"—extremely immature and I apologize for anything he said to you." I finished, my glare shooting daggers at Edward's back.

"_It's fine. I was wondering if maybe we could do something today. A couple of buddies dropped off some motorbikes for me to work on…I was thinking me and you could take them for a test drive or something."_

"Today works brilliantly for me. I have graduation practice, but after that I'm free." I said.

Edward whipped around, his eyes saying otherwise.

"_Awesome. So I'll see you when I see you."_

I hung up the phone, reluctantly pulling my gaze up to meet Edward's.

"You are most definitely _not _free today." I fought back the shiver that was making its way up my spine at the low tenor of his voice, the way he was staring at me.

He stalked toward me when I took a hesitant step backwards.

"Everybody needs to just chill out. Jake is a friend who deserves my time too." My back hit the wall.

He pounced, fingers pressing against my hipbones, his mouth sucking in my bottom lip, and as he breathed air into me…I felt like he was breathing life too.

And the thing that struck me the most in that moment—other than the fact that my room wasn't a sad relic of loneliness anymore, that my house wasn't deathly silent—was this notion that it was never just me.

I was not the hero of this story.

It wasn't about just Edward or just Jake or just Rosalie. It wasn't about how Demetri had shielded me that night or about how Emmett had scared me away from truth.

It was about how all of us…fit. How the things we did, the things we said, affected each other, and how we all chose to move forward from it.

It's like this: you're not the hero, you're not the savior, but you just never know—when that one person…that one thing you say…and it changes everything.

And the myriad of resulting repercussions (fights, parties, whispered words, mothers who don't remember, milkshakes) from that one action are simply fascinating to watch.

Like trying to skip stones along the surface of water and only being able to watch the stone sink, the ripples fanning out across the river.


	27. Petrichor

**I don't own Twilight**

* * *

"All I'm saying is that if I ever start referring to these as the best years of my life—remind me to kill myself."

—Pink, _Dazed and Confused_

* * *

I woke up to the sound of raindrops pitter-pattering against my window. It was funny how this day didn't seem any different from any the other days. But I guess it was.

I wonder if things could've been different. If I was supposed to feel like I had accomplished something. Because I wasn't really sure what I was feeling. When they called my name and handed me my diploma, I think I might just feel even more lost than ever.

But maybe that was the sign I'd been looking for all along. Maybe a diploma was what I needed to prove to myself that I was aging. That I still wasn't that scared ten-year-old little girl, trapped in a woman's body.

I had a future, waiting out there, beyond my bedroom, and it seemed to be calling my name. But sometimes I felt like…I was waiting for something too.

Maybe this was the part where I started living for myself. Maybe this was where I stopped second-guessing myself, doubting.

Maybe this is the moment where I could draw the line—where I could see my past, and then my future—and take a deep breath, aware, and fully in the present. Maybe this summer was going to be that quick inhale before the plunge.

Maybe this summer I'd make-out in the backseat of Edward's car or wax philosophy with Dem or get drunk with Jasper or play a prank on Jake. Maybe this summer was Rosalie's last shot at a rite of passage.

Maybe I'll finally be able to taste the air, the rain. And be free.

* * *

Even as the roaring applause filled my ears, my name still ringing in the overhead speakers, even as I wobbled forward to shake hands with the principal and grab hold of my diploma—a tiny, almost worthless token—I couldn't help but look around me, at the faces that defined my life: my dad's proud eyes, Jake's white smile, Dem's almost indecipherable nod of approval, Rosalie's puffed out cheeks (she was doing that whistle thing I could never do), Edward's crooked grin.

And it seemed, in that moment, as if everything suddenly fell into place. Like putting that last jigsaw puzzle piece into its exact spot, like that one second when everything is okay, everything is bearable and easy and light.

I saw my mom, standing near the backdoors of the auditorium, beneath the exit sign. She was using two fingers to wipe her eyes, the way she does when she cries, but doesn't want to mess up her mascara. She was holding a balloon that said _Congratulations, graduate! _and Phil was standing next to her like the trophy douche he was.

And even though the life was still moving, I mean, it had always been moving—clouds shifting and people leaving and seasons changing—for the first time, I felt like I was moving with it.

You leave high school behind. All those people who you kind of knew, but not really, you soon forget and it doesn't really matter who was prom queen or who was the most popular or who got into the most fights. Because high school is just some shitty rite of passage that nobody even remembers anyway.

It's the adolescence, the stupid, youthful _shit _you did to understand _why_, the awkward making out and pranks and ridiculous parties and people who said the one thing you needed to hear and crying and fucking everything you couldn't be as you stood in the rain, asking yourself what the point was.

That's what you remember.

That's what stays with you.

"I'm so proud of you, Bella!" Charlie said, his voice soft as he pulled me into a big hug.

"Thanks, Dad."

I turned to see Alice, standing there quietly in front of me.

"Congratulations," she said, taking off her graduation cap.

"Thanks, Alice. You too."

I watched her, waiting. I caught Edward's eyes over her head, as his parents huddled around him.

"I'm really sorry," she said slowly, looking up at me, "about all of it."

I shook my head reflexively. "You have nothing to apologize for—"

"Please, just…let me do this. I was stupid, and selfish, and I think slightly jealous—"

"Alice, it's okay."

She sighed, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and looked me up and down. "You look…different."

I smiled. "Same old Bella."

She laughed, then cocked her head to the side. "You alright?"

I paused, distracted by a howling Emmett who was currently flinging a giggling Rosalie into the air.

"I'm great," I said.

And I meant it.

As she pulled me into a hug and scampered off to join her family and Jasper, I knew I would never see her again.

* * *

"So tell me again why we're not going to the grad night shindig like everyone else?" I asked from the backseat of Emmett's jeep, while attempting to fight for Edward's whiskey.

"Because, young, naïve Bella," said Rosalie from the front seat, turning down the radio. "We aren't everyone else."

"Hah!" I said, taking a swig while Edward grabbed my waist and started sloppily kissing my neck.

I passed the bottle to Rose, then pushed Edward back, so I could straddle his lap.

"Are you drunk?" I asked his chin.

"No," he said, his fingers digging into my hip bones. "I'm awesome."

And that's when I kissed him.

And then we were making out.

"Gross!" yelled Rosalie, but she was tipsy, so it was okay. I could tell because she couldn't stop laughing at whatever Emmett was saying.

"We're here," Emmett called out.

Edward climbed out and pulled me onto his back. I put my cheek against the back of his neck and welcomed the warm evening air.

"Where are we?" I whispered, not recognizing the house.

"Emmett's," Edward whispered back.

We ended up in the backyard, passing a bottle of whatever around and staring up at the stars. It was probably the most cliché night yet, but hell it was summer and we were free and the world and fuck-all was at our fingertips.

So of course, we got piss-drunk. I mean, why the hell would we _not_?

"—but seriously, I mean, come on, her tits weren't even real and she still won that stupid beauty pageant. Where's the justice in that?"

"Rose," said Edward, playing with the ends of my hair. "You need to let that shit go. I mean, it was eighth grade."

"Even so," she sniffed. "I was heartbroken for days."

Emmett was laughing, and the sound was so foreign to me, it made me want to laugh too.

"I think she had a kid a couple month ago," said Edward, thoughtfully.

"No way!" said Rosalie, astonished.

Edward nodded.

"Well," she sniffed, "I guess it doesn't really matter anyways."

I sat up on my elbows suddenly. "I think I know what you mean, though!"

Everyone stared at me.

"Okay, you know how everyone had to read _The Outsiders _in like seventh grade or whatever and walked around with slicked back hair and Swiss army knives and called themselves greasers?"

"Actually, Bella, I think that was just you…" said Edward, his lips twitching, fighting back a smile.

"Whatever. Anyway, I thought it was this kick-ass book that like would change the world and—"

"I didn't really like that book," interrupted Emmett.

"—shut up, Emmett—and I was like everyone should know how tough this kid's life was and it was written by a _chick_, no less—"

"I'm completely lost," said Rosalie.

I caught my breath. "Well _the point is_ that I read that book like two weeks ago and I dunno…I finished it, and I balled. Like a baby."

It was silent.

"Like a baby?" Rosalie asked softly.

"Like a goddamn baby." I said back.

"What does that have to do with what Rose was saying?" Edward inquired sagely, opening a beer.

"It's like, life or whatever. People. How we change. This one constant that meant something in the beginning, became something entirely different in the end, something significant and real."

"That's deep," was all Rosalie said.

Edward looked at me, giving me that look that said he got it, he was right there with me, he understood.

It was quiet for two seconds.

"You're drunk," said Emmett.

* * *

That summer changed everything.

Edward would pick me up in his silver Volvo and take me to the beach and Rosalie pretty much lived and my house and when Dem wasn't working for his father he'd swing by and show me all the best hideouts in Forks and Jake would meet me after midnight in his secret café and Jasper would come over in the morning and sneak Baileys into my coffee.

Pretty soon I started wearing Edward's sweatshirts and flannels and Rosalie would go over our furniture arrangements and I fit into all those places. Somehow, with them, I wasn't facing the real world alone.

Rosalie was strong and beautiful again.

Edward knew we'd go our separate ways in college. He and I both knew it wouldn't actually keep us apart. We'd find our way back to each other, somehow.

As I packed everything I owned into a box, I felt confident.

I thought about those days of hell and about how far I'd come and about youth.

I thought about this dream I had about my mother, so long ago, and I remember she was standing in front of my bedroom door tapping her foot with that expectant look she always had whenever I had done something wrong.

And I wrapped my cold fingers around her elbow, needing something to hold on to because I was suddenly too weak to stand. And she patted my back and told me over and over that I couldn't do this. I remember sobbing into her neck, whimpering over and over that I was tired, _god, don't you get it?_ I'm tired, please, I'm just so tired. She patted some more and my fingers slipped and she said, as if hearing me for the first time, "_Honey, what are you talking about?"_

_Nothing_, I had whispered.

I thought about that day in math class, watching Rosalie fall apart and Edward, cold and hard.

I thought about carpe diem and destiny and all that shit.

And I no longer felt burdened, insecure, emotional about it. I felt like it was right for me to be thinking about those things.

It was right for me to ask questions.

It was right for me to have no idea who I was. Because there'd be day when I would know, and it just wouldn't matter.

* * *

Everyone showed up at the airport to see us off, bags in hand.

My father choked up as his farewell caught in his throat. I told him not to burn the house down while I was away.

Jake punched my shoulder and I hugged him, grateful.

Dem kissed my cheek. "Thank you," he said.

Jasper simply said: "Don't look back."

Edward was there, even though we had already said our good-byes, and he stood there, watching quietly. He hugged Rosalie, whispered something in her ear that made her cry, because she walked away to gather herself.

He kissed me, once, closed lips and much too quickly, but it was enough. It said, _I'll be seeing you_, _you're mine_, and a lot of other things I couldn't put to words.

Rosalie and I walked away from our families, our friends, our home, and I felt complete. Not grown-up or all-knowing or ready…just complete.

"Let's blow this joint," I said.

"Dude, I can't believe you just said that," Rosalie cackled.

"Shut up."

"You have such a way with words, Swan."

"I'm trying to have a moment, here!"

"We made it," she sighed.

"I'll toast to that."

Maybe that's the problem with high school. We're just too naïve. Too…locked up in the world we wish to see. Not in the real one.

Maybe that's the tragedy of getting older. You have to face up with what's actually in front of you.

Maybe it's simply about doing what you want.

Rosalie has taught me to enjoy the small things.

It's more difficult that it seems, trying to simplify concepts and passing thoughts, trying to tuck them all away into neat little drawers. Because the world is complex, constantly evolving, shifting, _pulsing _with change and transition, so that once you have it in your grasp…you don't.

_That's _what high school taught me.

Good-bye, adolescence. It was nice to know you.

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and followed this story. Special thanks to sah004, who's literally been here from the beginning. I could never have finished this without you. **

**And to all my readers, you have no idea how much your support has gotten me through. This was my first story, and I'm glad I could see it to the end. It has been the most amazing experience, and I am grateful to you all for your patience and investment in this story. **

**As always, thanks for reading. **

**forevergold**


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